Jorie Graham’s poem in our December 5, 2024, issue begins: The Killing Spree whizzed past, we liked the look of it, it liquefieddeath, it was here to stay, it actuallyhad nowhere else to go, was in its last stages now, longed to berevelation, longed to be part ofnature making itswhistling sounds above, itsscreamingbelow. The classrooms exploded. […]
