Not a resolution. Not a restart. A daily fact: today is day one.
Today.
Mothers, fathers, children, and everyone in the line before and after.
Wanting somebody, and then living with them.
Having it, wanting it, and the labour in between.
The ones you picked, and the ones everybody warns you about.
Years, memory, the end, and what the old say about all three.
The general ones. Funny, sharp, and everything that fits nowhere else.
Your mother said something to you that you can still hear. So did everybody else’s.
Critterlogs — for the words about critters and critters we love.
The Quarterly collects the catalogue as a printed object. Nothing new is written for it.
What’s your DayOne today? Delivered daily. Nothing else.