Reluctant Gravities 5

Odd, he says, how the road to our neighbor tends to run parallel, past her, out into emptiness. I'd like a space where we would have to intersect. Or else be hyperbolically myself, alone and too tall. As a book may be a book only if, once the voice has abandoned it along with daylight, it is still worth its candle. I lost my father by following him at a mathematically precise interval. Given how young the universe, you could deliver a child and never recover it. [74]

Yet the eye's not a black hole, no matter what its color. Uncluttered by things, it sees inward, into the heart. Which of course may also be empty. [75]

I carry photos of my absent loves but don't set a place for them at the table. [80]

Waldrop, Rosmarie. Reluctant Gravities. New Directions, 1999. ISBN: 0811214281.