nearby raze here is how you reattach the severed spine of a battered paperback you haven't yet been brave enough to immerse yourself in. first you find what's missing on the floor beside your bed. you ignore the dense epigraph and tiptoe through bricks of prose without stubbing your toes. then you grab your grade school glue stick, diminished but not dead, and plaster careworn paperboard with the sediment of rain-slicked childhood. someone you love might be standing nearby, smiling down at something she holds in her hands. you won't see the source of her joy. but you'll know its name when you hear it move through her mouth. 260129 what's it to you? who go blather from