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2 MIN READ TIME

The Embarrassment of Being in the World

Families of American trees move west

In search of familiar weather.

Read the complete article and many more in this issue of Boston Review
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Single Digital Issue What Nature (Spring 2018)
 
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Boston Review
What Nature (Spring 2018)
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Other Articles in this Issue


Boston Review
Timothy Donnelly, BK Fischer, & Stefania Heim
Ignoring the low screech coming billions of miles towards
Whatever fashioned us, its fashioning was nothing but
Fresh Kills Landfill in New York, open 1947-2001, was
how ordinary it is to want a long line of sunrises
Juridical moonlight, a stone admits NO FILTER. It’s
Of concrete passing planes, and here: look down, See
There are days when I dutch at the Great Sadness as
Two-thirds of the country is in drought. The waters
A single grain a second. This ice cream kind of night
Persephone promoted to pantomiming her loss In one
a trillion pounds of ice would make when it fell in
How many Eskimo words are there for white people? How
is the loneliest place that to be is empirically lonely
Lessons learned can be shared and modified from play
i don’t think the hitting will work A defensive time
gorge and pulse in their glee. Can I say I like you
lie awake. The mother is texting, do you want this
bird of paradise a bright orange slice through your
Shamus child of Ewan and Lyn found a dead beast and
the barking gets doser, so she lowers her rifle into
Another spreadsheet where every cell is a day containing
Mis palabras are heavy coated coati trundling home
Will we stop the destruction of the Earth … [or] enter
In the winter, my mother used to put a bucket at the
From Counter-Desecration: A Glossary for Writing Within
We are telling the story of a cheetah elephant zebra
You don’t even have to look to know this world smells
to slow the flower—you goggle water & what “fire’s
From Some Words from 40-Some Days Before the Eclipse
That was the year we waited for the river to fill its
Elegy beginning in the shade of Aunt Mary’s mulberry
the first lady who with her limo window frames the
Our field of vision is filled with thronging towers
and Her children were born of land and water, many
Jordan Abel is author of Injun, lin/inhabited, and