I am reading “Crocosmia,” a gift left for me by editor Nick when he crashed at our place while we were out of town:

“Words fluoresced in clusters of significance, burst open and floated hopefully in a kind of searching mood, scattered widely, indiscriminately, like rain, and indeterminately, like pollination, attaching to meanings like the legs of bees.”

I can for sure see how this book is not for everyone, and for that matter I’m not sure it’s for me, yet. But I get it.