Sere World

And his torso curls, contracting from the rod 
of his outstretched arms: as in Letter to the World, 
as in certain loneliest intervals in Merce. Some of us 
persist and see the earth itself as allegory, Arden's 
forest clearcut now; but rolling an earth-ball on 
sere grass highways may be all we can do to make 
a point about resources. Look, pollination calls 
from hand to mouth to the air; and a young 
man's body carves a vessel for the change. 
I'm receiving crossed bulletins from two new 
fathers: either parenthood's a program that 
boots up when baby crowns, or somehow you're 
left wondering—how do I live? What, in fact, 
does all this have to do with happiness? 

on the photography of Robert and Shana ParkeHarrison