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I remember your face in the cigarette smoke
drifted and turned. I remember my baptism
at your mouth—labor of blackened tendons,
of hooks and eyes to drag a shape, the glutinous
tissues jumping to sound: it must be your heart
began as light as cork and dead to sound, then, sounding,
went out, down, dragging the face and its illusory
life. Some fossils leave a living coelacanth,
momentary residue, and though you’d disapprove,
inside my mouth your stone fish rise and sing.
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In his new book, philosopher William MacAskill implies that humanity’s long-term survival matters more than preventing short-term suffering and death. His arguments are shaky.
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.