post-apocalyptic

Winter survivors

So spring is beginning in the Sonoran desert–this morning especially, there was just a feel in the air that made it easy to believe that.Yet walking with lnhammer yesterday, we saw the effects of this winter’s sub-freezing nights. The cardón cacti are so universally brown and yellow that it’s doubtful most of them will recover–doubtful

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“It is a bedtime story. It is an instruction manual.”

Proof, once and for all, that it’s the rare story that cannot be improved by an apocalypse … via rachelmanija‘s Yuletide recs this morning, a postapocalyptic reinterpretation of Goodnight Moon: Goodnight Room.The Old Lady is a hologram stuck on endless loop since the program froze. That is why she can only say, “Hush, hush.” The

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Post-apocalyptic poetry

kmessner‘s post on post-apocalyptic YA pointed me to this dystopic Auden poem, “The Unknown Citizen,” which she suggested reading in conjunction with pambachorz‘s most excellent Candor.Which got me thinking about my favorite post-apocalyptic poem–Richard Wilbur’s “Advice to a Prophet.” I first met this poem–of all places–on a sample AP English test in high school, and

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