Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a fairy, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping
Than you can understand.
--William Butler Yeats

Oh so it's going to be one of those days. No matter. Talking late last night about things remembered only after they make the body stop and look up at the head as if to say, "well?" What a strange thing, remembering. I can remember faces and dates and whole passages from Yeats and our phone number when I was five; I can't remember what I ate yesterday or anything I write ever or how the knee that had stitches felt when it hurt, only that it did like some weird telepathic symbol for having-hurt-at-some-time. I conceive of "remember" as "to call to mind" but what I want is to call to body and I can't most of the time. For this I'm profoundly grateful. Maybe an on-off switch would be helpful, but would I ever use it? Please.