I know, I know. I joke all the time about how poetry destroys the lives and innocence of web editors. And yet, when I was emailed a PDF (or, you know, handed a bark-bound copy by a babbling brook by a white-tailed deer) of In the Kettle, the Shriek, I had no choice. I had to let you read some of them. Fraction One day, my heart will stop beating. (not everything is…