The moon is a shut eye. Abraham Harvey, 16 January 2012 (extemporaneous, as dictated to his father)

for Riv My friend, I cannot watch you, miles away, intubated, awash with medicine, cordoned amid a hush of mechanical saviors. I cannot sing with you, your unabashed heart brimming with life in dark nights of karaoke and root beer. I would rather have offered parts of my body, to keep you encompassed among us. [...]