i can feel the edges of where i could tip over into a weird and yawning sadness, but i’m not doing it! everything is fine. today i have lain on the grass both productively and unproductively, and consumed a lunch without repercussions. i am very much inside my body, but that’s okay, it feels all right in here. not great, but just fine. i am writing a poem that can seem to trap the reader in a loop, but actually there’s a way to get out. that’s the feeling for today: you can get trapped in a loop, but you can also get out.
ah yes, friday, the day i set aside each week for spending two bewildered hours being wildly, unreasoningly fascinated by the new postdoc, who i’ve spoken to once, for ten minutes, about baking
This is my knee, since she touches me there. This is my throat, as defined by her reaching. I am touched—I am.
— Natalie Diaz, from “isn’t the air also a body, moving?” to Ada Limón, published in The New Yorker
From January through September of 2017, the poets Natalie Diaz and Ada Limón conducted an inspired and collaborative correspondence. The resulting poem-letters reveal, as most missives do, their writers’ lives, but also a time and a place. Read (and listen to) their correspondence here.
must a sport be entertaining to watch? 