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You don’t start at zero. You start way below zero.

The puppeteer darted in and had his black cloth strung waist-high,
pole to pole across the Métro car, before the doors even closed.
We were standing to the front of the carriage but a bit behind him
and could see only his right side, where a...

Even surgeons can be superstitious.

They were gathered in a field, six boys, playing a game he didn’t know.

From a plastic Adirondack on the back deck
of a cabin sealed once but abandoned
to a splinter-shaggy-cinder-silver-gray,
I’d watched day diminish as vision does 
when force on eye nerve bloats (vignetting) 
and I’d come through regimented grass...

I told myself five hundred would be enough

to begin to make a plan.

Bulbous ropes of kelp the tide stranded.
Sandstone sea-break cliffs; eucalyptus groves.
A hammock strung between redwoods.

“The Queens of Queen City” is photographer Michael Snyder’s immersive photodocumentary, nearly a decade in the making, of the drag community of Cumberland, Maryland, in northern Appalachia. Just a few images into it, I was struck by what...

What is a salamander without a cool, damp, shady place full of hiding space and things like worms and snails and slugs to eat? With its habitat? *