The idiot greens the meadow with his eyes, The meadow creeps, implacable and still; A dog barks; the hammock swings; he lies. One, two, three, the cows bulge on the hill.
Trying to make a living as a book reviewer, the $200 spare-parts book scanner, TriQuarterly’s future, behind the scenes at the Nobel Foundation, and more.
Without warning, a hobbled old Afghan man comes around the corner, surprising the soldier guarding the door. The soldier yells, “Stop!” The old man inches forward on his cane.
