As a dog seizes his prey,
having felt the first
thrill of the scent give way in long pursuit
to tedium and frustration, feeling now
the sweet exhilarating rage of capture—
“Likeness,” by Garth Greenwell Read More »
As a dog seizes his prey,
having felt the first
thrill of the scent give way in long pursuit
to tedium and frustration, feeling now
the sweet exhilarating rage of capture—
I drew wildebeest on the caves at Lascaux;
I lived a grim life
hunting peccary and maize
in some godforsaken mudhole in the veldt.
“Ode to the Alien,” by Diane Ackerman Read More »
I drew wildebeest on the caves at Lascaux;
I lived a grim life
hunting peccary and maize
in some godforsaken mudhole in the veldt.
The one sage who escaped the Catastrophe is supposed to be still roaming the airport in various disguises, pretending to be a passport officer, barman or chiropodist, and distributing subversive pamphlets which denounce the allegedly lunatic usurpers of the Control Tower.
“The Control Tower,” by Arthur Koestler Read More »
The one sage who escaped the Catastrophe is supposed to be still roaming the airport in various disguises, pretending to be a passport officer, barman or chiropodist, and distributing subversive pamphlets which denounce the allegedly lunatic usurpers of the Control Tower.
Here, the trees pay their respects, mourn openly,
wear dreadlocks of hanging Spanish moss
sun bleached ash-blue and swaying; in seawind
they become prayer shawls
salted with dust, grief threads of every kind
“Yom Hashoah in Florida,” by Rick Hilles Read More »
Here, the trees pay their respects, mourn openly,
wear dreadlocks of hanging Spanish moss
sun bleached ash-blue and swaying; in seawind
they become prayer shawls
salted with dust, grief threads of every kind
I met Jean Taylor when I was five years old. She was the tallest woman I had ever seen, and she walked slowly, with her head up and her shoulders back, her hips moving like the hips of a slender cat. She wore black slacks and she had big feet which seemed to me very graceful, especially when she wore her straw sandals with the artificial cherries on them.
“The Woman Who Knew Judo,” by Mary Gaitskill Read More »
I met Jean Taylor when I was five years old. She was the tallest woman I had ever seen, and she walked slowly, with her head up and her shoulders back, her hips moving like the hips of a slender cat. She wore black slacks and she had big feet which seemed to me very graceful, especially when she wore her straw sandals with the artificial cherries on them.
