The number of rabbits that emerge in the night in Providence, Rhode Island hints at the existence of a magic trick that exists somewhere at the intersection of something like a failed magic trick and the rhythm of the tides. A stage musician has fallen asleep next to his stovepipe hat, the mouth of which is left exposed to the world. He might have fallen asleep in his home, on a bench on Blackstone Boulevard, or under the Christmas lights of Ogie’s Trailer Park. He might have attempted to re-summon the spirit of H.G. Lovecraft or Talking Heads from when they were young. But the provenance of the rabbits in Providence doesn’t matter. The impact is the same. The rabbits keep coming.
I can’t tell if the neighborhood punks are my age or a little bit younger, but they dress the way I did half a lifetime ago: plaid pants, vests with studs and back-patches, hair dyed to neon colors and done up in mohawks and spikes. (“I STILL BELIEVE IN (PLANT) ANARCHY,” Rebecca van Laer, HAD.)
I’d argue that one of the lessons of the above paragraph is in the particulars. Why is a song called ‘Werewolves of London’ and not — for instance — ‘Werewolves of Santa Monica?’ Why is Travis Bickle a part of New York City as opposed to Singapore or São Paulo? What is a location telling us when we encounter something seemingly unique to it? What is Providence telling us when it shows us all these rabbits? If Caliban can tell us about one island — “the isle is full of noises” — then what can we tell ourselves about our own?
Bill Murray notes, in his age-worn Moleskin, that it seems a problem that no universal recycling system exists between counties, states, or countries even. Why do some states accept only cardboard, glass, and plastic #2? Others accept nearly any plastic, regardless of number. What’s the rationale? (“Bill Murray Solves Recycling,” Robbie Maakestad, Hobart.)
ON BUFFALO BUFFALO BUFFALO THIS WEEK: If Birds Left Tracks In The Sky / Gnashing / Places Where Yo-Yo Ma Has Given A Surprise Concert / Dispatch From The Morning Calm / High Noon at the Cactus Sanctuary / What To Do About The Delta Variant? / and More
It wasn’t just because it happened in Cleveland
because I was watching from 70 miles away
and felt it happen too—maybe across the whole state
a moment of collective joy and elation coupled
with a single, supremely talented person’s complete frustration
collapsed, a singularity of negating forces, the rise
of one body and the decline of another. (“STEPH CURRY THROWS HIS MOUTH GUARD INTO THE STANDS AND A NEW UNIVERSE WAS BORN,” Brandon Noel, W&S.)
OF NOTE/NOTEWORTHY:
8/2: The Georgia Center for the Book is putting together a poetry reading to celebrate/highlight Route 1. More here.
8/25: “In the Shadow of a Pine: Black Poets from Maine Respond to David Driskell.”
Poets & Writers currently has three open positions.
ZINE OF THE WEEK: “I Made This At Work Today.”
I WOULD LIKE TO SEE THAT VIDEO OF A DOG HELPING THEIR OWNER PLAY THE THEME FROM THE OFFICE AGAIN: Is that so? Then click here.