Carl Boon – Arkansas
Arkansas This is red clay dust on an Arkansas backroad. This is me telling you exactly what you want to hear: we wore corduroy jackets, their sleeves at our palms, and said black faces look better in the rain than ours. I don’t know what we were—I don’t remember how it felt to be called […]
Carl Boon – Borges
Borges What mind could make things happen here—on the plains of Uruguay, boys with blades tracing squares in the dirt, women whose skin found mountains to fade to? Myth, objects gathered on roadsides: a coin, a note in Persian, the idea you lost on the way to Buenos Aires ten thousand years ago. Later I […]
