Get our latest essays, archival selections, reading lists, and exclusive content delivered straight to your inbox.
This one, trapped like a stone in the boiling stream.
Boiling in its own weather, as the trees
boil in the rain, whipping till they bleed.
Boiling in the mouth of its own rage,
each nerve boiled till white & clean as a blade.
Each vein gulps till green as the leaf that thrives
in the smoke of the rain. Each claw wet & alive.
Caught in the teeth of stars, a knot of bones
& string & burning hair & one clutched stone
nailed like a heretic in a field of salt,
greedy for the flame, the crack, the leap, the fall.
This one, small & dangerous as a seed
Vital reading on politics, literature, and more in your inbox. Sign up for our Weekly Newsletter, Monthly Roundup, and event notifications.
Support us with a donation this giving season.
Robin D. G. Kelley on the midterm elections.
What we have achieved this year—and our plans for 2023.