A girl like a yellow buttercup
Early in memory
Played a recorder for me
I was four
Ran the world
Was a dark town
My first dance
I know a thing or two about loss:
In a room of happy men and women
I’m the interloper, a caste thing
Like a button on a drowned man’s coat
So that you must look away—
Americans like a healthy difference
Not a febrile haunted body
With static of blind
Or hands flapping.
How many times
Have I left a party
To stand among crickets?
—“I do not know which of us has written this page.”
—Jorge Luis Borges, “Borges and I”
Hands that rock the cradle
Or sweep a white cane
Know who’s writing—
Words appear and startle
In the air above
& a blind woman
Parts vast lexicons
As she makes her way
In his blindness
Was never alone.
So he didn’t
What to see.
In the sloping dark
The blind move fast
Their own words
On their tongues.
I was sad all afternoon like an old dog
Who watches crows walking the grass
This is how it is some days
What can you do
Build nest in mind
With pages from libraries
Splintered by war
“Who do you love?” I sing whenever I hear a burst of vitriol from Donald Trump. It’s not altogether bad to think of Bo Diddley several times a day.
The Donald is a man so devoid of love (or anything like it) he’s become a hot coil of resentments. One can think of him as a clock on fire.
Aaron Barlow has now written an extraordinary essay for Political Research Associates entitled “The Triumph of the Lie: How Honesty and Morality Died in Right Wing Politics”—an incisive roundup of McCarthyite history and the carpet bombings of facts now being carried out by the GOP.
Barlow’s essay addresses our eroding moral climate and it’s incitements and it’s excellent reading.
Back to Mr. Diddley.
Lying has everything to do with lovelessness. No love, no truth. No love, no courage.
All of which begs the question: “When did the GOP fall out of love with America?”
I know. First he talks about love like The Beatles or Marvin Gaye, then he imagines foolishly there was a time when Republicans loved their country, loved it’s people, and more than just a few.
OK. Forget the particular day. It’s silly. As hopeless as “the day the music died.”
I’m trying hard to not lie. I love this country. But what I’ve always loved about America is our ability to tackle hard issues however uncomfortable the process may be. Air and water pollution. Energy shortages. Inequality. Hunger. Oh Christ, we’ve a long history of standing up for little people, the folks who most need need help.
This of course is love of country. This is the truth.
One may say, cynically perhaps, “it’s easy to love when you’re warm and comfy” and the argument goes this way: when the ruling class began to understand the limitations of natural resources it turned greed into public policy—neoliberalism etc.
Even during the Great Depression Americans still thought their best years lay ahead.
The GOP fell out of love with the American people around the time of the Arab Oil Embargo.
Yes, in the future there’d be only so much good stuff to go around. To paraphrase Pokemon: “better get it all.”
Hey, if I’m no longer obligated to love you, you stranger, you “other” why then I can argue that the poem on the statue of liberty is merely a decoration, added later.
We all know “things added later” are frivolous.
We all know the truth is featherbrained. Snowflakey.
“C’mon Little Cupcake! These lies are delicious!”
One night I went to the woods and talked with birches
Saying: “I’m not oppressed!”
There was an evening wind, branches rustled,
It seemed they answered me:
“We are incomplete also…”