i  <esau

john hull, blind at fourty-five, crests through the dark waves of grief to a love of rain. his notes on denial are very resonant to me in this moment.

I somehow feel that if I were to accept

this thing

if I were to enter into acquiescence

then I would die

because it would be as if my ability to resist, my will to resist, were broken

on the other hand, not to accept seems futile

because what one is refusing to

acquiesce in is a fact.

and now what I have to face is the

thought that there is no escape

the thought that I shall now just go on

with another 20, 30, or even more years

of

this