There are so many striking phrases and expressions here, Ani--winterbone mornings, a cello of sparrows, build a skin out of light, quiet violences, the bruise as map--that I'm hardly able to take the whole in; you arrest me in nearly every line.

And yet the whole seems to express a sadness that is the real experience, and I don't want to miss that for the beauty of its expression.

Very movingly done.