Get our latest essays, archival selections, reading lists, and exclusive content delivered straight to your inbox.
Occasionally a god speaks to you,
rutted tollway a flint knife breaching
gutted fields hung on event
horizon, clear cut contradiction
through soy beans and sheared corn: blue
pickup an orange blaze, white letters
blistered, boiling down to tarmac,
asphalt, sulfur fume cured by a chemical
plant burn-off pipe, blue flame chipped
with white raising a buttress of weather
-burnt bricks, flaking wind
totem. We stopped to take some cargo
on, weighted October with a freight
of waiting snow traveling east, panic of
starlings startled from stubble husks
by harvest moon dangled directly
ahead: drove into the pitted sphere, bloody
pearl punched in a sky just out of reach
(vanishing point retreating, peeling),
one of the yellowed streetlights
by now, dimming, diminishing. The road
says to perspective, wait.
Vital reading on politics, literature, and more in your inbox. Sign up for our Weekly Newsletter, Monthly Roundup, and event notifications.
Protests in China are shining a light not only on the country’s draconian population management but restrictions on workers everywhere.
Support us with a donation this giving season.
Robin D. G. Kelley on the midterm elections.