Through stacks of prayers the dead abandon,
old news and gray breath,
past the reel of blood in its shells,
blood in clouds and boats full of rain,
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1955
I sat at the stern of the gray boat my father guided off the muscle of the Chattahoochee and over bream beds and fern-choked water. I took him at his word: fish draw to silence; and […]
A Certain Meanness of Culture
By Kay Ryan
And about Blake’s supernatural territories, as about the supposed ideas that dwell there, we cannot help commenting on a certain meanness of culture. They illustrate the crankiness, the eccentricity, which […]
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