Jules Gibbs How was it the I located another I, then stood sinking in the wet sand like a trembling bisection to help me say: am leaving you, which the mouth of the ocean, that many-tongued colossus translated: I believe in you. The ocean’s tongues never say love; they say pull or rush or plunge — spit out snarls of dark ganglia. What was it we thought we sealed in the philtrum — deep, erogenous, Greek for kiss — or pressed spleen...