My trachea’s a well that draws up pailsOf cloudy rainwater, my bronchiolesRivulets in a fen, my lungs dark balesOf sodden straw. My eyes are bowls Of dirty sleet. My limbs are sedge and mossIn mist meandering like mercury.The fever fills and falls in me. I tossThe blankets off then drag them back . . . . Continue Reading »
Today the weather brings to mindthe nature of the curved line,the many ways we measure time,the drawing of a deep breath,the shape of the sail just beforeanother holy exhale.And there, an aperture begins, the signaturereminder the body is at homeand beginnings and endings are the sameas a nonce . . . . Continue Reading »
At Costa Maya, in the Yucatan,we walked the yellow jetty from the ship,with throngs of other visitors, to seea tacky shoppers’ mecca, with a mall,a plaza, palm trees, piles of souvenirs, sweet alcoholic drinks, and, for the ill,a pharmacy with drugs at cut-rate price.We wandered in the crowd, just . . . . Continue Reading »
Hacksaw Ridge is that rare film that forces us to reflect on the tensions between these two great loyalties, and dares to show us how, even in extremis, they can be resolved. Continue Reading »
The lessons from the Nazi and Soviet totalitarian regimes must be kneaded into the moral and political texture of twenty-first-century free societies. Continue Reading »