The Poetic Reconstruction of a Cornish Gansey, from Sheep to Sea.
He sketched in charcoal
the arch of a shoulder
the movement of a hand
the woman’s head
turned and tilted slightly
toward the man
At any moment, that heron might
slowly unfold its miracle
of flight, and stir the hypnotic tide
of quiet surrounding us
When plague grips a grand city in its pitch and airless
fist, flames bore holes in flesh that the rats sing
He finds a Hershey bar
in his breast pocket, offers her a piece.
She flicks her cigarette into the dark,
takes the chocolate and says, Thanks, kiddo.
Benjamin Jensen: Ukraine’s rapid advance against Russia shows mastery of 3 essential skills for success in modern warfare
Ukrainian forces, aided by Western firepower, have upset traditional military logic once again.
To dust it — not often enough. To stare at it — too often.
To never open it anymore. Keep his ashes hidden.
A girl is playing on the green slopes of a valley in Kurdistan, on the border between Iran and Iraq, when her kite is suddenly swept across the river by the wind. Three boys on the other side see her calling for help, but cannot make out what she is saying: she is just too far away. Separated by the river, the children try to communicate with each other – yet between them lie the explosive remnants of past wars.
I used to wander around on lower Broadway in Manhattan when I was still a teenager. I had a dead-end job at a valve company taking orders from plumbers wanting a gate valve or oversized coupling for an apartment building going up.