Two yearsThat is the time that has passedbetween us * TodayI am sitting against your
I stretch out on my bed, a bed that was his that semester. Funny how life plays us farther than we can endure. I ended up getting this bed space this semester of my second year. Every night I lay face up and cry. I ponder on why he did it and I feel like the worst person that could ever be. Why was I so blind to see that his depression had eaten so much into him?
“I breathe here
But nothing takes my breath away
I live here
But my heart is far away”
Is it just us or who else feels this weight of longing– “I miss the gasp at a power failure/ I miss the glee at its restoration”! Look how poetry shapeshifts into music and the two take one form through rhythm and repetition.
Exciting news on Thursday as the Swedish Academy names Retired Professor Emeritus of Post-colonial Literature,