Artists and physicists may argue whether or not black is a color, a shade or even the absolute absence of color itself. But the iconic artist Mark Rothko doesn’t see black as any of these single, narrow definitions.
The literary accompaniment to The Suburbs is found almost too perfectly in William Faulkner’s 1950 Nobel Prize acceptance speech, in which he declared the...
Marvelous Creeper
It seeps,it creeps.Emerging, crawling,a marring of sky.Amber deepens to pumpkin,the distortion less unsettling.Soon, a blood orange supplants everything.We sit here, marveling. Not waiting,not...
Trees Know
Bare branches of winter treessway in wind, like animalsbobbing their heads,listening to music of breezes,telling stories to their neighbors.
Trees know who tilled the...
