This autumn morning, after the freeze,
They held a summit of the trees.
Motions were made and seconded,
And all the ochre, brown, and red
Snowed down. Each ruined crown agrees:
Today is a day for obsequies.
And since the colors haven’t bled,
Our hill is a map of colonies
This autumn morning:
Ochre, the land of the hackberries;
Red, of the maple—geographies
That spur my daughter to grab her sled
And raise those nations of the dead,
Scorning and smearing their boundaries
This autumn morning.
Le temps a laissé son manteau. . . . —Charles d’Orleans Rajon . . . turned in his best season . . . erratic as ever. —the Guardian, 2012 Rondo’s tour . . . will continue in New Orleans. . . . —Sports Illustrated, 2017
Time” called; a faked-out-of-its-jock, short-winded, sweat-drenched man-to-man (“the Garden crowd erupting . . . ”) ran for cover—high-tops freeze, limbs knock,
On July 6, 2016, thirty-two-year-old Philando Castile was pulled over by police in Falcon Heights, Minnesota, in a car with his girlfriend, Diamond Reynolds, and her four-year-old daughter. After being asked for his license and proof of insurance, Castile told the officer that he had a firearm. He was told, “Don’t pull it out,” and even though he insisted that he would not, Officer Jeronimo Yanez shot him seven times. The shooting and Castile’s death were live-streamed on Facebook by Diamond Reynolds.
I. The Road Runner is a beeping charmer, blue-feather pompadoured, hooked to his lusty habit of turning the Coyote into blooming asterisk and spectacular dust. It’s believed that he has no soul.
The Coyote, bewildered and bulge-eyed, dies and dies and dies in a bloodless loop. His bones, ludicrously close to the sky, lance his nappy pelt and leave him deflated, as flat as the earth
