"my dead work each place"
The whistle failed all
the stars in my body.
I traveled in fear, weeping
comely songs without turning
to falsehood, took up bone
rosary after stretching skins
like the aquamarine king;
the fresh water I taught
was contagious. I sat, spit-
shining the pearlescent heads
of six hilts, palming the teeth
of my kind, decorating
an alligator, chest painted
slug village—delirium tequila
—my dead work each place
I pray, is mine an evil heart?
A sale happens not because you want to sell, but because someone wants to buy
Founders can make or break a company, and getting over oneself is the key
A senior scholar at the National Academy of Engineering explains why human error is a symptom—not the reason—for most safety failures