My grandmother’s days are made of bread,
a round pat-pat and the slow baking.
She waits by the oven watching a strange car
circle the streets. Maybe it holds her son,
lost to America.
My father, despite the possibility of a court martial, plus a ban against shipping firearms from overseas, managed to get his service pistol and an assortment of souvenir German firearms shipped to our home in his Army foot locker
The air I take in feels thin, ragged, and rough against the walls of my lungs.
This neighbor to the south of us uses a .22 long rifle.
So does the neighbor to the north.
There’s nothing easy-going about the folk songs of the Greenwich Village revival, not the ones Dylan sang — a man-killing woman, catastrophic floods, a man driven insane by love — songs that taught him there’s nothing new on Earth.
When awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2016, Bob Dylan gave no comment for two weeks, ignored the Academy’s calls, didn’t attend the ceremony, and collected the award in a hoodie four months later. But Dylan later sent them a rambling, 27-minute ode to literature.
The arrest prompted some observers to urge the arrest of another public figure who faces ICC charges: Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.
in the yellow light of that narrow
carpeted hallway that led to my parents’
bedroom. there was a photo of
my great-grandfather Nestor Dreyfus
whose face escaped into my mother’s face
I learned to light the candles, studied
the old books, taught my son to recognize the one
day of the week, one week of the year when we
eat matzo instead of bread and sing of freedom
and redemption.
One day an old painter, impatient with his failures, took a scissors to the paintings he didn’t like, cutting them into strips and putting them out with the trash.
Grassroots movements, legal organizations, and nonprofits are leading the opposition.
The sky conjures you all day
into clouds that sack my heart
to the point I hear the growls
and howls of the beasts
they form in the guise of you
The Last Generation of Black Americans Under Jim Crow and the Culture of Racism in America
The lesson I draw over and over
is, everything can change
in a moment.
All that you have is lent.
Left in the wake are demonized and demoralized federal scientists.