Monthly Archives: August 2018

Red Tide Is Natural and so Is Death

I keep thinking about the Dadaists caught between an end and a beginning. Some launched green apples, others grenades and still others self-inflicted wounds. I’m trying to put myself in their place and feel what was at stake, butting up … Continue reading

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A man’s poem

Stuck In A Shut-Up Sandwich David Foster Wallace did it both ways: a play of infinite garrulity and the ultimate cutoff at the pass: I’m done with this, leaving sharp-elbowed others to claim he speaks for all white men— “slap … Continue reading

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