Backstreet barricade, arcane
balustrade, hidden kingdom of wing and prayer,
details too fine to miss or mess with,
skinny escape from a netherhood
of parapets and puddle soaked oaks.
Hospital palatial, shadows under foot and bed.
Time glacial. Fear the sound in both ears.
Tubes, lube, sudden exclamation,
declaration of unrepentance, remnants
of dinner untouched, rouged, hushed.
Scat tracks, crosswalk, bebop
haircut; moonshine, daylight,
pills not popped: no threats
to these daily threads I weave and weave.
TODAY IN SLATE
Black people’s disdain for “proper English” and academic achievement is a myth.
Hong Kong’s Protesters Are Ridiculously Polite. That’s What Scares Beijing So Much.
The One Fact About Ebola That Should Calm You: It Spreads Slowly
Natasha Lyonne Is Coming to the Live Culture Gabfest. Are You?
A Jaw-Dropping Political Ad Aimed at Young Women, Apparently
How White Boy Rick, a legendary Detroit cocaine dealer, helped the FBI uncover brazen police corruption.
How Even an Old Hipster Can Age Gracefully
On their new albums, Leonard Cohen, Robert Plant, and Loudon Wainwright III show three ways.