from memory

Let me not
to the marriage of true minds
admit impediments.

Love is not love
which alters when it alteration finds
or bends with the remover to remove -- oh, no.

It is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken,
It is the Star to every wandering bark.

[something, something] height be taken.

[Something, something, something, something,
something something, big finish]:

And if this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ,

And no man ever loved.

Belated Be Mine.

Somebody else, I'm hoping, will post the pictures, but it has been a wonderful past few days. A brief work trip down to Fort Lauderdale provided brief respite from the February gray. I spent Valentine's at the Milky Way with Juli, CB, Rachel, and Ms. Stoner. [Side note: It's made Bryan and I laugh in relief to realize that neither one of us cares much for Valentine's. I prefer my romance to be unforced and budget-friendly, not artificially expensive due to demand -- which, it so happens, brings up the most frustrating aspect of planning a wedding day. A day should not cost almost as much as surgery to remove a spinal tumor. And ours won't; but I digress.] Friday found me staring, amazed, as the students Bryan and I work with dazzled with their dancing, singing, and kung fu panache at BC's Korean Student Association/Chinese Student Association. Saturday was lovely: I served CB pecan pancakes in bed, made so much coffee, read books, talked politics, puttered around my room throwing things out with abandon, raided my closet for forgotten finds, curled up on the couch with CB, and went to bed early. I did manage to catch a cold somehow, but oh, well. I spent Sunday meditating and listening to one of Kevin's old sermons online, then rushed to meet Kim at the ICA. We stared overlooking the Harbor, and I remembered (as I do whenever I'm with her) why I love being around her. (Kim, if you read this, it's quite simple: you laugh with your whole body, and your heart is never far from your sleeve.) I met Bryan at the airport and captured him for an evening and a day. We shook off being threatened by a hostile cabbie with home-cooked meals, morning walks at the World's End, steaming clams and napping.

Circles of quiet.

The Full

I walked home tonight singing, alone, and thought of you crying this week over your lost hearing. In the wind moving over me I felt your hands smoothing my hair, washing my face, coaxing me to sleep. Your house was always home.

This loss so great, which I know you are reading as the beginning of the end -- I will not let you disappear beneath its calm, deadly waters.

I have no chair, no church, no philosophy; I lead no man to a dinner-table, library, or exchange; But each man and each woman of you I lead upon a knoll, My left hand hooking you round the waist, 1205 My right hand pointing to landscapes of continents, and a plain public road. Not I—not any one else, can travel that road for you, You must travel it for yourself. If you tire, give me both burdens, and rest the chuff of your hand on my hip,
And in due time you shall repay the same service to me;	1215
For after we start, we never lie by again.

Till Death

I should have made this public weeks ago when it actually happened, but grand intentions to write a meganarrative about our engagement gave way, as intentions so often do, to harsh, cold, exuberant reality. Suffice it to say that we can look forward to a lifetime of awkward gawking and forced smiles.

Exhibit A:


A June wedding is planned.