Listen. You don't have to do anything.
The raccoon is in the garbage can, selecting an eggshell;
there's a patch of moonlight
on the rug. Get up, stand in it, be seen through---
And out in the night
where the ragged patches converge:
everything that lets go
still has its memory of attachment
and that which refused to let go
still has its uses---
excerpt from "Finding Her" by Brenda Hillman, from _Death Tractates_.
Wesleyan University Press. 1992.
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