Listen to Barry Goldensohn reading this poem. On a dirt road, a paper-thin dry thing like a black parchment cut-out of a toad in mid-leap, partly sideways, drawn by a master, now boneless, as if it never had bones. Only the tough skin survived the flattening by one of the rare cars here. Poor unwary thing. How much of us will last, tough, stiff, cured by summer sun. Our better towels outlast our flesh. Are Nazi lampshades holding up? Shrunken heads? Mummies? Count on bones. Stone monuments. A few poems.
TODAY IN SLATE
Smash and Grab
Will competitive Senate contests in Kansas and South Dakota lead to more late-breaking races in future elections?
Stop Panicking. America Is Now in Very Good Shape to Respond to the Ebola Crisis.
The 2014 Kansas City Royals Show the Value of Building a Mediocre Baseball Team
The GOP Won’t Win Any Black Votes With Its New “Willie Horton” Ad
Sleater-Kinney Was Once America’s Best Rock Band
Can it be again?
Forget Oculus Rift
This $25 cardboard box turns your phone into an incredibly fun virtual reality experience.