Affairs at the Jupiter hotel

Goat gone feral comes in where the fence is open comes in and makes hay and nips the tree seedlings and climbs the granite and bleats, through its line- through-the-bubble-of-a-spirit-level eyes it tracks our progress and bleats again. Its Boer heritage is scripted in . . .Read the whole article at The Newyorker

We must cast our bread Upon the waters, as the Ancient preacher said, Trusting that it may Amply be restored to us After many a day. That old metaphor, Drawn from rice farming on the River’s flooded shore, Helps us to believe That it’s no great . . .Read the whole article at The Newyorker

I remember he was bent down Like a whirlpool I was yelling at him He looked scared and backed away Another time, I squinted my eyes to see And he said I looked ugly The funny part was when My sister asked me where he went to And I just . . .Read the whole article at The [...]

The snow is falling, and the world is calm. The flakes are light, but they cool the world As they fall, and add to the calm of the house. It’s Sunday afternoon. I am reading Longinus while the Super Bowl is on. The snow is falling, and the . . .Read the whole article at The Newyorker