We made oarsout of the arms of time.Perhaps it is tendernesswe’ve been looking for,not kindness. Perhapsit is not prayer we needto say. Perhaps it’s timeto let the hand do whatit does best—pressItself unto a chestand push a galaxy intothe other. Minus timeand its arms, minusgod and its hovering—we are made of eachother. Tellurian,earthling, boat maker—row […]