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David Chalmers: Fragments of consciousness

The New York Review of Books

Poetry 180

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« The Illegible Letter by Soren Kierkegaard | Main | So rivers run »

Chris McCandless. by Jay-James May

Chris McCandless. by Jay-James May

Everything
About Icarus
Is
A lie.

He never
Flew too high
Burning
His wings.

He
Died in the
Back of a bus
Alone and smiling.

He smiled
And his teeth were yellow.
He laughed
And we all laughed too.

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