All bow!
Charlemagne dons Emperor’s
Florid garb;
He invokes Justice.
Knights, lords, mercenaries —
None opposes.
Punished, quashed rebellions:
Saxonia trembles
Unctuous viziers wax xenophobic.
Year Zero.
power
Voted.
I voted today, in the gym of a local elementary school. Overall it went very smoothly. There was a sense of standing in line for a long time, but it fact we were home just about an hour after we left the house.
Why is it important to vote? Isn’t it just an empty ritual, rigged from the start, with candidates that are all just corporate puppets? If I were true to my youthful anarchist and later Marxist influences, I’d probably be memorizing Noam Chomsky and agreeing with that statement. But I was also raised by politically-active, liberal Jews, who believe that society is made of people, and that improvement of the world by people is not only possible but imperative.
I’m in no position to moralize; my civic involvement is generally limited to voting on election day, and recycling. I even missed my party’s primary. I’m not proud of that. I’ve made an effort to be informed, by studying the candidates on Project Vote Smart (where you can find detailed information about the candidates’ positions on a whole list of issues) and my state’s League of Women Voters site. Yes, I took the time to research whom I was going to vote for, albeit the night before the election.
If you enjoy any modicum of benefit from living in American society, why not participate in the process? It’s not about whether the person you voted for wins, it’s about paying attention — even just a little — and showing up. You don’t have to subscribe to some naive myth that you’re single-handedly changing the world. Just show up. Cynicism in defense of your own non-participation does not make you appear more intelligent. It just seems like an excuse for laziness.
What people forget is that most elections are not just about the hot-button, big-name races. The local campaigns might be less interesting, but the closer you get to home, the more connection there is between your life and the operation of government. It’s one thing to be cynical about someone running for Congress — but what about State senators, county executives, city council members, sheriff, judges? I don’t know these people any better, except what I’ve learned through reading. But I feel like these people are going to have a more immediate impact on my life. You could also argue that your vote counts more in a local election, since the overall number of votes is smaller.
What’s my point? I guess that I’m still an optimist (albeit an apocalyptic optimist). Chaos theory reminds us that even the smallest change can alter the course of a storm. And even if History is spiraling down a giant vortex into confusion, I’d rather be paddling with or against the current than just getting dragged along. Any takers?
Young woman campaigns in Afghanistan
BBC News has an interesting Photo Journal about Sabrina Sagheb, a 24-year-old woman running in Afghanistan’s parliamentary election.
The photos and associated text reveal a startling mix of currents within today’s Afghan society. I hope she survives until the election.
Sabrina is campaigning on a platform of liberal reform and gender equality.
She hopes to make the wearing of the burkha a matter of choice for all women and advocates an end to forced marriages.
the desperate do not easily forgive
(for Katrina)
Now the sun burns the waters
clears the shredded sky
and peels back the skin
of the exposed.
You are undone, O Great One
Master of the West
your time has come.
When your black blood clots
and your limbs stiffen
who will come to your aid?
What friend have you, tyrant, in this hour of need?
Who will approach,
but to crush a boot against
your swollen neck?
ours the sorrow
Your wars drag rust across the planet,
leave stains of oil not erased by rain.
Ours the struggle, yours the blame.
Ours the sorrow.
Now, at the sight of our bellies,
you show the wolf’s fang,
smiling concerned, almost,
stinking of saliva.
This is total war,
war on all fronts:
war that cannot win,
but only multiply.
Until all curves falter,
until the Asymptote,
when parameters break,
when sand covers the stain.
Golem
In the sandstorm our metal tempers,
while the flesh decides and steels
itself for rage:
Come, precision-guided sunsets,
majesty of clouds,
red underneath.
Come, collateral angels,
patriots sheathed in sulphur,
loading their dice.
All our training rears us
to tear cell from cell
in this age-old game: perfected.
Our metal is alive, almost,
a grinding machine —
charged with a purpose
but beyond our control.
World Trade Center at Lunchtime on a Weekday
a breeze cools me
sun-blind before
a sparkling fountain
luster of heavy power
this plaza, impact crater
of money
white shirts, student backpacks
the rustle of sandwich papers
and the fountain.
dirty pigeons scavenge,
feathers musty in the sun.
a bronze ball of involving might
rivets this place
to the earth