INDIRECT REQUESTS When the dead bring themselves to walk with you, and your glance is a pendulum, it’s hard to move forward without a sailor’s gait. You know there’s an ocean beneath your feet that the swell could drown out words, breath, but you want that company to dance again, reach to catch up with
An Emperor Penguin in Summer The Emperor’s wardrobe is expanding, he spouts new retro designs. The crowds go wild with wonder at his literary lines. Old words, new ears, expletives to allay our fears: he isn’t past it yet – just resting.