A collection of 10 posts
Kay Ryan does not bring us to the landscape, but the land itself.
"Hope is a discipline," Mariame Kaba says.
I've watched too many videos from those who follow waddling ducks.
The more one has to deal with, the more one has to take seriously.
Should a writer be toxic? Raising the stakes, erasing the past, undoing social bonds?
I’m still not entirely comfortable with calling answered prayers for parking spaces or relief of everyday anxieties “miraculous.”
Ryan, like Robert Frost and Elizabeth Bishop, is also a poet of “existential horror.” She extends hope, but her lyrics terrify if attended properly.
I know people who must keep the television and radio on. Who must always be on the phone. Noise and noisiness, a way of life.
...I’ve been to the Grand Canyon. What took me aback was how colorful it was. As if it were a source of rainbows within the Earth itself.
We believe in the behavior which looks positive. We believe so much that we find signs. Signs of something we wish was real.