The summer populations of flying insects/have fallen by more than 80 percent/in the past quarter century. This fact/is a fact I can’t think of very long.
At her back, the sword. At her feet, the ravine./Impossible to advance. To turn back. Impossible.
Nostalgia doesn’t melt like water underfoot
doesn’t climb on the back of a horse
to be carried far from our hearts
“The day we left the pineapple fields /Mother cried.”
Guided by poets including Shakespeare, Homer, and Milton, Principles of Economics asks: can we stave off or transform grief by creating a faithful copy of the departed, by remembering everything in the manner of Borges’s Funes?