Jan/Feb 2020 • Vol. XLII No. 1 Of TodayJanuary 2, 2020 |

Practice

I try to hold in my mind a chemical fire in Texas a chemical explosion in Yancheng a passage by rubber boat from Kuşadası to Vathy without even the before or the after as though discreet as I can hold the mad king going madder the spotless meeting room a team of lawyers the hemorrhoids of a team of lawyers the soothing creams each purchased individually or the parched fields I have in my view a pink bucket on its side in the garden all winter a barely contained moment of ecstasy on a golf course stomping hard with my boots on spongy treated earth Julie fucking Andrews / I shout into the high winds toward a brown scribble of unmanicured woods gales from the west southwest the thousands of second homes standing empty swamps from which the spotted salamander emerge after thaw after how many gallons of fuel in enormous steel tanks arrive at their destination intact what can it possibly mean to remain intact to oppose smug minimalism what can the 22,000 met

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