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

31 Song for the Carry-On In the minute and a half it takes for a plane to fall from the sky there is time to pray for all of us living now who will in this way die the excruciating slow fall of strangers cloud-high and plunging down together and there is time while the lights flicker and the fire grows and the human noise stuns everyone and all certainty disappears except for the impending one now rising up like cornfields or cities to snatch us back—there is still a moment or two in the chaos of gravity to say something—it’s OK— It’s OK. Once as a boy my father helped a sheep give birth and the thing was stuck and so he put his hand inside the body and pulled out a thick bouquet of flowers—tulips, roses and a spray of Queen Anne’s lace. He was a boy. He told me this when I was grown, old enough to know better. It’s ok. Breath carries us and we fall away. ...

Share