Welcome home
Welcome home
The ghost
of orbit,
fragile
psychic power
in a cooking mood.
The earth wiped clean
with old rag
shines from space
Mohammed bin Zayed is one of the world’s richest men,
a glint in the eye,
expression
of divine perimeter.
and has control of sovereign wealth funds worth $1.3 trillion.
Home to afternoons and
domestic animals,
the planet
is a
broken glass.
To fall asleep lately, I've been listening to a BBC podcast called "In Our Time," in which the host--the placid, grandfatherly voiced Melvyn Bragg--engages various scholars and academics in discussions of popular history, science, the humanities, and other general curiosities. Subjects include the 30 Years War,
Picking up the pieces on a rainy Wednesday. I found myself listening to the experimental band The Books the other day, and watched a short documentary about their process. An animating preoccupation that drove the music was conversation—the idea that any juxtaposition is really a discourse. You put one
I have a tried-and-true method for pursuing things that require some willpower: Start early, and don't anticipate. When I started running consistently, it was late fall. The holidays were right around the corner, and with them the new year, which was an obvious time to adopt a new
I recently finished Tell Me Everything, by Elizabeth Strout, a novel that follows episodes in the middle aged lives of characters in Strout's fictional town of Crosby, Maine. I didn't really like the book that much, but I'd say what I found a bit