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This is the six-year-old’s joke:
The father calls his daughter Daffodil.
Why Daffodil, his guest asks.
When she was a baby, says the father,
a daffodil fell on her head.
Then the dad calls the other daughter Rose.
The guest asks: why Rose?
The father shrugs. When she was a baby,
a rose fell on her head.
A boy tears into the room like a tiger.
Hey Cinderblock, says his father.
Vital reading on politics, literature, and more in your inbox. Sign up for our Weekly Newsletter, Monthly Roundup, and event notifications.
Reflecting on three monumental works of modernism—James Joyce’s Ulysses, T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land, and Ludwig Wittgenstein’s Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus—a hundred years on.
Both regulators and employers have embraced new technologies for on-the-job monitoring, turning a blind eye to unjust working conditions.
But I do miss the hymns, / the small, hard apples with their dimpled skin. I do miss / things.