What Your Week Has In Store

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Purgatorio by

Coming around a bend on the sunny afternoon asphalt you’ll find a bee-keeper, dressed in his bee-keeping vestments, tending leisurely the crooked white bee towers amidst a cloud of lazy spring bees.

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Prairie Home Nemesis by

You’ve seen the golden beaches under the Big Sur and walked the hot boulevards down in the valley but none of it amounts to much in the teeth of this kind of light. Even the snowpacked street glimmers electrically. We do not want to die, as the philosopher says, because we are too much in love with the phenomenology of the lit world.

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Writtenness by

You, whose dog has run away to sing with the wolves, should not feel so entirely betrayed, nor should you hunt the woods calling his name, or post his picture in the paper, nor leave the door open should he return some damp evening soon, for he has already been eaten.