Get our latest essays, archival selections, reading lists, and exclusive content delivered straight to your inbox.
You step into the pink air, a tree wiggles and leans.
Between two limbs a gap, through the gap the sky’s hot mouth.
It fills the tree sitting blankly in the sky that fills the bird and fills its song.
When the sky lowers through you, through your center,
let it settle there—do this every single day.
It takes forever.
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.