Inside us, constellations,
bit thread knotted into night’s black drape.
There are no right words,
if by right we mean perfect,
if by perfect we mean able to save us. – from The Failure of Language, by Jacqueline Berger 5 Jan 13
bit thread knotted into night’s black drape.
There are no right words,
if by right we mean perfect,
if by perfect we mean able to save us. – from The Failure of Language, by Jacqueline Berger 5 Jan 13



