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Strange plastic act,
strange heart, my obscenities
trail after, snag my sleeves.
The clipped response,
the pointless good mornings. Good
to know the distinction, that
moldy house, that yard
full of rust and trash,
that front door, always, a small
light outside dim and lasting.
I keep my distance.
Discrepancy, you are a bird circling
the room, each day, each day.
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In her new book, Danish poet Olga Ravn writes with open love, pity, and compassion for her strange yet familiar creations.
Draconian individual punishment distracts from systemic change and reinforces the cruelest and most racist system of incarceration on the planet.
Our well-being depends on a better understanding of how the logic of labor has twisted our relationship with pleasure.