I Love InformationCourtney Bush Egret feathers. Pulverized chickpeas. A "faint but constant series of ovals and lines" that, remarkably, spell the name Penelope. "Nobody owns the meaning of these things," Courtney Bush writes, but this does not stop the poet from seeking, from "reading meaning in the garbage" and in the flowers growing there. What does she seek? Not facts. Instead, something transcendent and mysterious, knowledges that can only be unlocked through