In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

30 weekly apocalyptic or poem written on the wall in an ascending space capsule We had to stop what we were doing to see what we had done. Thing was we wouldn’t. How devoted we were to despising one another, to erecting our own private islands made of water bottles and various other plastic disposables.“Will you forgive me?” was a phrase stricken from our language— theirs too,“they” ballooning to include nearly everyone but that arcane term “us.” Upon discovering that gulls feasting on our dead but unearthed bodies died of our toxicity, we sobered up but couldn’t stand to look at ourselves in what was left of the light. Despite what so many movies had taught us, just in time was a tick too late. There was this bird we used to call a whippoorwill. ...

Share