Right after Mary Oliver died, I spent time poring over her words, as you may have, as well. And something about that poignancy of reading her in the immediate wake of her last breath created in me a veritable flood of words. For 4 or 5 days I was in a soup of language, marinating in the simplicity of sounds, and the haphazard crashing together of phonemes and morphemes that just seemed to fit together in some mystical order. The more complex component, of actually sorting out