It's true, these last few years I've lived watching myself in the act of loss—the art of losing, Elizabeth Bishop called it, but for me no art only badly-done exercises acts of the heart forced to question its presumptions in this world its mere excitements acts of the body forced to measure all instincts against pain acts of parting trying to let go without giving up yes Elizabeth a city here a village there a sister, comrade, cat and more no art to this but anger
-Adrienne Rich
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