We prefer our violence subtle
managed, predictable.
Not for us the hunter and his rifle
but the factory farm, the feedlot, the killing floor.
Amid Donald Trump’s hubbub machine, it may be hard to discern that what is happening is not a rogue event but one that is ingrained in the American character…
It’s the walkers I wonder about:
sad faces, our caps pulled down, moving fast,
no place special to go, so fierce to get there.
Sarah Oliphant, one of the art world’s most prolific yet best-kept secrets, has built an extraordinary legacy through her work. Her daughter, Violet Oliphant-O’Neill, now faces the challenge of forging her own artistic identity in the shadow of her mother’s success.
We push them in trios
and quartets—bellowing down the lane
—a rider betwixt to stage them
strategically in the pens. Once
arrived, the usual upstart gets thrown
through a fence.
Black people in America have often led change in this society because our humanity and our liberties were so long suppressed and denied.
Abracadabra, says Mephisto, the fire fly
buddha of Rue Morgue, and the whole wide world
changes from a stumbling rick-rack machine
doing the rag time, the bag time, the I’m-on-the
edge-of-a-drag time to a tornado of unmitigated
fury.
If they vocalize their acceptance of human-made climate change, we believe they can correct widespread misperceptions, foster dialogue and encourage action in ways that secular authorities may struggle to achieve.
Love bade me welcome, yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-ey’d Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lack’d anything.
I wish Lea could see this light
lowering itself gently into the arms
of the Aphrodite sweet shrub
and tangling itself in the thorns
of Jude the Obscure named for
the many petals of our sins against others.
Take note, says historian Timothy Snyder: “This is the beginning of an American policy of state terror.”
As she prepares to welcome her first child with husband Mahmoud Khalil, Dr. Noor Abdalla writes to her husband one month after he was unlawfully detained for exercising his free speech rights.
They handcuffed him, didn’t listen when he’d speak,
callously severing him from his home
as his wife cried, حبيبي، كيف بدي اتصل فيك؟