(for Susan. I'm not sure how we found or find ourselves in this conversation, but here, perhaps, we find our selves-- unwittingly, unbeknownst, often un- awares--and this conversation continues to elucidate the borders of loss, this periphery of impermanence, this presence of absence.) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ this emptiness is not a substance or a non-substance but a thing or a non-thing. this emptiness has a name, a place and a form. when we speak of it, we speak not of emptiness but of an emptiness, a singular vacancy that inhabits a place, a space in an inner landscape like a deep canyon where nothing ever happens any more, not even weather. ~~~~~~~~ and this is how it happens. an empty rumble echoes in an emptiness. a space finds room to breathe and the room finds space to live again in the empty rooms of another, and these emptinesses are much the same. they are filled with the same nots, the same uneasy intervals bound by different chords, threads that thrum in the void, the same void, the same un- this-ness — the same— and these emptinesses speak to each other across the fullness of the world, through the things we cling to and avoid and we color these things and we build them up around us and we call them memory and they are never enough.