Get our latest essays, archival selections, reading lists, and exclusive content delivered straight to your inbox.
writing is not how music is supposed to be
a house where the trees are all bent one way
on one side the tower
on the other a string of railroad cars.
the bridge is violet
the county line infinity
the grand canal vanishes
a certain kind of quality of being is possible
When I went to Germany I visited Beethoven’s house and bought
a postcard reproduction of part of a score. I bought it because I
believed I could see individual notes scratched out. I thought
Beethoven had made a mistake, that he had begun something and
changed his mind. . . . this gave me great hope.
Vital reading on politics, literature, and more in your inbox. Sign up for our Weekly Newsletter, Monthly Roundup, and event notifications.
But I do miss the hymns, / the small, hard apples with their dimpled skin. I do miss / things.
The vast hinterlands of the Global South’s cities are generating new solidarities and ideas of what counts as a life worth living.
Protests in China are shining a light not only on the country’s draconian population management but restrictions on workers everywhere.