Next to the mountain the mouse is gigantic. One star turns away from another star. The ages peel off in sheets and in sequins. Two creeks braided, two brooks knotted, a little seethe of sea. I was there for one extra. The next absence requires days of preparation. We can tease out a drop, put it aside, anxiously flexing. Has sopped up several lives, yet … Continue reading we’re always new, impossibly repeating by Glenn Ingersoll