I have two pieces in this week's issue of The New Yorker: one about the federal district court ruling on Prop 8 (same-sex marriage) in California and the other about a twenty-five-year-old fancy-food purveyor in Las Vegas. Here for same-sex marriage and here for caviar, foie gras, truffles, and travels down the back corridors of casinos. Last week, the magazine published my poem "Dormant."