We are a public forum committed to collective reasoning and the imagination of a more just world. Join today to help us keep the discussion of ideas free and open to everyone, and enjoy member benefits like our quarterly books.
She is slow-footed and her underparts are clean. She crosses the garden and sees dust which has fallen neatly into the basin. She could want to make this crossing every day.
There is a mound in the garden three to five feet or more across. She crosses over that mound. She steps on a succulent with salverform flowers and oblong leaves. She steps on an inflorescence or on an efflorescence. She crushes a dense rosette. She spares some racemes and plantlets and not because of special circumstances. The corolla of a pink flower, regardless of how it’s cared for, sits through a shared experience.
An American couple does recognize her because she is famous for her great success on the earth and please don’t add silence into this because it is making me weepy—so they extend a sincere invitation to her for her to stay with them in Philadelphia and she thanks them again for the drinks and for the conversations and for their delightful, spreading, nodding, insignificant flesh, and for the palpability of the big strides they take with their mouths slightly open.
Vital reading on politics, literature, and more in your inbox. Sign up for our Weekly Newsletter, Monthly Roundup, and event notifications.
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.