“I’m shrinking,” I shrieked,
meaning aging,
nearing death
because I thought that to pretend
I was the witch
In The Wizard of Oz
was funny
and would thus communicate
something
if not exactly my feelings.
*
Cousin Rust,
with your look of blood
and sunset,
I’m almost in love
with the lace you’ve made
of metal
That so much of the art of “In Minor Keys” is muted in effect is ironic, because so much of it is overproduced, aspirationally eye-catching, and so big.
Chuck Klosterman’s Football is a eulogy for the sport on the eve of its decline.
A new film biography depicts the Palestinian writer as still out of place—and ahead of his time.
In Honey, the novelist offers a different take on the campus satire.
