Content
“We made this little volume together alone.
Alone, through so much more darkness than this; it can’t all be gathered by hands to be gifted; it sifts through the fingers and spills, drips, runs; the dirt always drinks at least a little from every offering, as its due. You just carry away what you can from the altar. We have tried, and have been. Now after all that’s gone, and all that’s overcome and been, transcended, there is at least this little written relic we have gathered to leave. And leave to gather… …to dust. Whatever and whenever this NowHere becomes, we’ve always known and embodied this strange fragile paradox state of impossible motionless impending and excruciating Transcensience.”