On an expedition to Ceylon (now Sri Lanka) in 1906, the colonial official James Hornell was given a tour of Pukkulam in the Mannar district, on the northwest coast of the island.
Indian Affairs officials from Washington D.C. to the Lower Colorado River believed that milk, dairy, and beef (in other words, cows) would save the Indians in more than one way.
“I have a bit of a provocative question for Taylor.”
Oh no. Here it comes.
“Have you ever done ayahuasca?”
How do you make a palm tree grow on the page? How do you capture the feeling of April? These are the kinds of questions that William Stanley Merwin’s poetry may be able to answer.
Feral. The viscerality of this single word was enough to capture my attention. I had no idea that this book would introduce me to something so frighteningly obvious that I was almost angry that this concept was so new to me.
I had written almost exclusively about men. That’s something I realized after finishing my book manuscript.
Through the course of my PhD research, I found myself escaping with increasing frequency to parks of different kinds in the cities I made home.