“In-cho-ate adj. Only begun or entered upon; incipient. As when
ribbons of light peer through inchoate air, before the thought of loss
or love came into focus, as when the first glance of a stranger
brushes over you, and, for that breath of time, you wonder if time has
double-crossed you; you wonder if this could be the start of a new
ending, or if this look—this probe up your spine, this eye on your
leg, neck, lips, hair—could come from a ghost of someone—someone,
mind you, who you thought you deserved; someone, mind you, who taught
you how not to live—whose hands opens like your mouth once did while
saying, with innocence, Yes. over and over again.” – A. Van Jordan
