I keep thinking about a recent essay in Popula by Danuta Hinc, “Beneath the Black Rocks,” where she writes about her mother’s death — and how she just left. I think of the underground mountain, how it expands towards the center of the earth, how it pushes deep into the waves towards the horizon, andContinue reading “iGoodbye”
I love how Terry Pitts, the writer on the blog Vertigo, writes about time: The cinematic version of time passing, which often shows a succession of calendar pages disappearing off the screen, blown away by the breeze, was never how I understood time. For me, it’s the constant repetition, the endless mimetic motion of theContinue reading “What Time Looks Like”
Three bursts of pandemic poetry, courtesy of word magnets.