new year’s eve sonnet

It’s time to say goodbye again and cheer
the passing of another year, look back
in wonder, doubt, and momentary tears
along the stretch of paths and cul-de-sacs
we’ve travelled, sometimes slow and sometimes fast,
with fear or circumspection, some dismay
at times, reflecting on the die we cast
and cards we drew. Despite these harder days
we seem to muscle through, and find a way
to live again and turn our year from fall
to spring. Before the fire spends its final flame,
as clock ticks on it murmurs to us all:
remake the world to match your secret dreams
and seize the day in twenty seventeen!

the silencing of nozick

Conversation with a "philosopher":

What are you teaching this term?

Political philosophy.

Oh, what are you teaching?

The first half of the term is Rawls, the second half contemporary critiques of liberalism.

That sounds great—are you teaching Nozick at all?

No, I find when you teach Nozick, students just accept his criticisms and can't take Rawls seriously any more . . . .

illusive

Gazing in the shimmering pond, Alice thought she saw another world; dimly, past the rippled clouds, she could almost make out the face of another her, with bottomless liquorice eyes, and a downy tear dropping down from sculpted cheek to rivulet past Wednesday's best . . .

blocked by lothian buses

Deemed too dangerous, apparently . . . .

caterpillar

the tarot can't show how crunk it will go . . .

RIP Miss Cleo

paint

caroline shaw

slaps

frog mating season

frog calls pepper the night;
sounds like sweaty farts,
lava bubbles bursting lazily—
constant sporadicity.



insomnia animated
bed pirouette against the
pockmarked sonic mate-scape—
auditory nightlight.

timo andres

rip, alan rickman