Midnight pools catch the brilliant lanterns
carried by women in procession.
Deep into sleep
I follow them home.
Before the election, as sexist and racist and consumptive as I know Americans are, I believed we knew what was right even if we didn’t always do what was right.
We can blame climate change for the scattering of our seasons, and the cultures they enable. This is no less than a remoulding of our imaginations. But how do we face up to our rebellion against Mother Nature, and her wrathful, deadly response?
This is an exercise in deciding whom to cast my vote for in the first local elections since the turn of the millennium. We have one last weekend to mull over whom we would like to represent our interests, after 15 years of mulling over what our interests are.