When I first visited Italy, I was excited to find out a temple-turned-church, complete with Latin inscriptions, was a mere brisk evening walk from my hotel. I also found there was a McDonald’s next to the temple. The irony felt deliberate, as if the universe had tired of subtlety, as if the collision of the…
American Culture and Poetry in the Internet Age
From September, 2024
Completely Subjective: Maureen N. McLane’s “Haptographic Interface”
The dog days of summer are upon me as I am writing this. The heat has settled into a viscous, oppressive thing. The days are a slow-motion descent into a molten world, each hour a heavier, more viscous pull. My mind, trapped in this humid limbo, is split between the sterile glow of my computer…

