In the crazy guest who saws off the chair legs,
In the wind hissing beneath the door sweep,
A tribe of mice squeezing through pocket doors,
In the pants pockets where the evidence remains,
Those filaments of wool in the moth-eaten rug,
In the masquerade of motion that sets off the alarm,
The alarm that arrives via airwaves at dinnertime,
In the worm that opens e-mail, eats the address book,
The virus propagating on the unsuspecting screen,
In the cell that missed a loop of timing and purpose,
The unpaid tax surfacing like a submarine,
In the bloody stool and saliva, the mucus and membrane,
Slits of sunlight discoloring blue curtains,
In the broken gutter where ice dams pry up the roof,
A crack in the skylight where mold sifts down,
In the contractor hammering windmills on shingles,
The carpenter bees burrowing barracks into the attic,
TODAY IN SLATE
Don’t Worry, Obama Isn’t Sending U.S. Troops to Fight ISIS
But the next president might.
IOS 8 Comes Out Today. Do Not Put It on Your iPhone 4S.
Why Greenland’s “Dark Snow” Should Worry You
How Much Should You Loathe NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell?
Here are the facts.
Three Talented Actresses in Three Terrible New Shows
The Human Need to Find Connections in Everything
It’s the source of creativity and delusions. It can harm us more than it helps us.
More Than Scottish Pride
Scotland’s referendum isn’t about nationalism. It’s about a system that failed, and a new generation looking to take a chance on itself.