The distance

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The distance

The distance

It is a blow to realise, as a lover of words, that talk can only accomplish so much. Were I to touch the infinite crevices between the stars and leap the dream-deep spaces between waking and childless sleep, I would be no closer to clarity. I could wade the swollen river while gnats frenzy the air and the moon makes the earth dizzy with his deceiving proximity, and I would have gained no ground. You could be right here now, in the doorway, jeans and open pores, weather and silence, a moment the depth of a year, and still I

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