Strangely, the storm cracked its shell at one point, the clouds parted serenely for a brief glimpse of what seemed like a few stars, and I could see the snow settling softly on the ground like a diaphanous large bird with its wings a massive white comforter.
Educating people about who killed King, and why, and why it matters today, is the greatest service we can render to his memory.
Trump is a spectacle, an image, a hologram conjured out of the dark underside of the swamp of the Unites States’ brutal, ruthless, and violent history. That is why he serves as the double action hinge that swings the self-contradictory idiocy of the revolving door of what passes for political debate and democracy in the U.S.
Like many people, when a New Year rolls around, I think of turning over a new leaf. The problem with…
Here we are in the middle of our lives. Somewhere someone is reading a book, Quietly, deep in thought, pages…
“Are you genuine? Or merely an actor? A representative? Or that which is represented? In the end, perhaps you are…
When it comes, it comes on slowly The day feels holy, a hush falls down Whispered names, remembered faces From…
I offer all my work that appears here for free, so if you think it worthy, I hope you would…
“If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood/Come gurgling from the froth-corrupted lungs . . . . My friend,…
“If sleep is the apogee of physical relaxation, boredom is the apogee of mental relaxation. Boredom is the dream bird…