An eleventh issue—like an eleventh hour—depends
on faith in all the clicks of time and keyboards,
the flicks of pen and paintbrush. I cannot quantify
how grateful I am. Nor can I explain how benefit
is to cost as the spirit is to art. I may not convince
an owl, unblinking on a branch, any more than I can
convert a nihilist or a statistician. Some humans
spell love across space despite the distance.