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Note: This is another essay I wrote for work. There’s no shortage of aphorisms about failure. Writers, artists, politicians, athletes, and most everyone who’s ever pursued anything of substance or value (at least perceived) has faced the existential prospect of falling short. Most sum up their experiences with
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Funny story, having taken a blog break, I decided to abandon the arbitrary numbering system I’d been using on my posts and just keep a regular count. It turns out this is #101, at least on Substack. In an interview following the release of the film Inherent Vice, director
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Debt Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedShadows have worn the pavement down like wind and rain in the parking lot of a gas station in the town where I was born. Where the birds flit fitful in skeletal grasses, dirty and desperate, clinging to an
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It would be pretty arrogant of me to suggest that any of you noticed that I haven’t finished the poem month. That said, I committed to it, and I fell a few days short. I’m sorry. I hope you read one or two things you liked. In closing
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Hamlet
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Winter, by Billy Collins
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The Melon, by Charles Simic
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Ode to History, by Mary Jo Bang
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Instructions, by Eavan Boland
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Valdemars Street, by Artis Ostups
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The Locust Tree in Flower, by William Carlos Williams
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Metal Coughdrops, by Tristan Tzara