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What better witness than this evening snow,
its steady blind quiet, its eventual
completeness, a talc smoothing every surface
through the lumen tricks of ice.
No one who comes here hastens to leave,
though the mineral winter makes a dull
math of cold inside the bones, a numbness
thinning into each fingertip and eye.
Faint injury traveling toward earth
in shining silence, a softness in the weather
passing through us, dark moods of snows—
a sense of peace so deep we extend out
into the blackness of our lives, dread and failure,
and feel no hint of terror, only the premonition
of drift-design, the stars behind the snow
burning in ancient immanence over the field.
What lights a world gone blank with despair?
You were here once; you will be here again.
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The gender politics of Positive Psychology valorize the nuclear family and heterosexual monogamy. But few of the millions who encounter it through self-help books and therapy have any idea.
The passage of the administration’s signature IRA should be celebrated, but without explicit corporate guardrails it’s doomed.
As the war continues with no end in sight, the country’s ability to prevail at the front will depend on how badly the war damages life on the ground.