All I want to do all winter is read poetry. And talk about the city jail, where I’m ushered into a room with bolted-down tables and fixed chairs, with a crowd of jumpy teenagers. We are locked in. There’s a huge warehouse window in the room; it’s bolted, too. The boiler on the roof below [...]
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[new york] Book of the Dead
A yellowed papyrus, a long hall in the Metropolitan Muesum of Art on a snowy Saturday, New York. Behind the plexiglass, Anubis adjusts the scales. The goddess Maat sits in the pan on the right. Her body is tiny and indistinct, and a feather rises from her head. One the other side is the heart. [...]
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