Marilyn Chin tells my skin to run

A poem. Second in a series.

this poem has been removed at the author’s request.

 

Boy Rock

A poem. Third in a series.

“Boy Rock” by dC

Rev your engines, boy
Clear the road
Rub the sky from your eyes, boy
Take it slow
This ride around the galaxy
makes two stops
one at you one at me
it slingshots
with the gravity
of the sun we hide behind
In the shadow of our love
the earth grows cold
The mines lose weight
The train tracks crystallize
Empty freight
cars glide
toward the twisted crags
of hunchback mountaintops
and break up close to space
close to the summit of Boy Rock

There’s no destiny but we
sheathed in western states of being these
borders are too narrow to make love
so break them up
and watch them crumble from above
Disintegrate your fear each season
Make commitment
Speak of treason
Publish it, and name
your citizenship with a kiss
This
is
revolution time
There’s no more hate and no more crime
so state your rank and fuck this rhyme
The war will come in lines
The spoils will divine
if we hold true and set our minds
on territory yet unclaimed
unsung anthems left unnamed
Step in place and drag your fate
across the amber waves of grain
and sing a spiritual
Chained to the face of Boy Rock

If poetry comes out of me in waves
you catch them on your tongue
but if you dare to utter one
the sound reverberates
and heard around the world
it’s all it takes to lift the curtain
from the jaded generation
and deionize their oxidated dreams
Love is never what it seems
Blood doesn’t pump
it speaks in streams
and we decrypt the crippled scripts
of loose-leaf social movements
mostly in the hips
We know that history bends at the waist
know that weather starts with storm chasers
dare the sky to touch us
and know it can’t stand the heat
Critical is what the masses
can never stand to be
The least that we can give is a position
loud enough to make them whisper
so kiss me
Rip the rope from my neck
Pull the bullet from your chest
and if we want to be the best
we have to climb
Claw over hammer
hoe over heel
mind over matter
breath over steel
hard casings of our lungs
caving in with the bass
from invisible drums
on the floor of a club
that beats in our skull
We have to fight for breath
climb high to be the best
Hand over hand
over hand over
hand
over the buckled knees and arched back
of the diamond-tipped glass-slick
cracks in the seamless body
blasted out of Boy Rock,
boy, rock

A mythical place engraved in our dreams
the frequency of our kisses
the pitch of our screams
the sinew that holds you together
the glue that burns your skin
the power that keeps you running
the light you won’t let in
the hope we all aspire to
the finish wearing thin
the insurmountable odds of you
mounted atop me
atop a mountain
across the sea
Boy Rock
no rock
soars higher
breaks bones
burns brighter
fuels fire
makes my eyes water at the sight
of you climbing
tearing muscle from stone
crying out inside a silent plea
for dignity
among the igneous fragments
summit crumbling to ashes
these last lines scattered
at our feet
statues standing watch for we
make our monument from the single stone
of Boy Rock,
boy
rock

 

Totems

A poem. Fourth in a series.

If everyone wore their crosses
like Christians
boasting
this is  my purpose
this is sacrifice

The man at the bodega would wear a dog collar
chained to a security camera
cash register
tobacco field
And when you asked him the time
he would howl
twelve years!
twelve years!
that’s what time it is

The alcoholic on your stoop
would have a dick
colored like a Michelob bottle
permanently shoved up her ass
And every bad word you’ve thought
as you stepped around
averting your eyes
tattooed on her cheeks
in the shape of handprints

The lesbian daughter you disowned
would grow a cunt on her forehead
Every time she kissed her lover
her bellybutton would rip open
She would cry placenta
and we would have to smack her to shut her up

That depraved artist you petitioned against
would have brushes instead of hands
Every time he tried to say something insincere
shit would come out of his mouth
and he would never be invited
to another SOHO gallery art opening again

The pregnant teenager
would carry asign made of condoms reading
“Jesus was a bastard”
But you would still call her a whore
so her tits would be metal spikes
like Madonna
They would rip through her shirt
unable to cover them
And when she nursed her baby
gums would bleed

The beaten wife
would have purple stars for eyes
mops for feet
and her children’s  shrunken heads grown around her neck
like something from a Viet Nam veterans’ prized collection

The raped woman
Would have a tombstone in her vagina
You’d have to put down flowers before you could fuck her
She would have a video screen in her chest
And every time she was afraid
the “incident” would play
in full color
loud and bright
and you couldn’t look away
No
you couldn’t look away
this time

The screaming insolent child
would have flesh made of cellophane
insides of sand
and you and you’d have to think about it
before you smacked him

The romantic
would grow thousands of tentacles
blue and silver and all things spacey
reaching out for miles
caressing the unseen
When they got chopped off
he would scream
and no one would know why
They would think he was singing
unaware of  how it hurt
But he can grow them back
don’t worry
He can grow them back
so many times

The quiet dissenter
would have mirrors for skin
microphones for ears
and an affinity for fundamentalists

If everyone wore their crosses —
like Christians
boasting
this is my purpose
this is my sacrifice
Maybe those two little sticks
wouldn’t act so damned righteous
anymore

 

Muslims are not “monkeys”

In 2002, an Iranian history professor asserted that Muslims “should not blindly follow” clerics. The result? He was accused of apostasy and sentenced to death for blasphemy.

Hashem Aghajari, a veteran of the Iran-Iraq war and a member of the Islamic Revolutionary Mujahidin Organisation, a left-wing reformist political group, stated in 2002 that Muslims were not “monkeys” and that they “should not blindly follow” the clerics that lead Iran, a nation that is a mélange of an Islamic theocracy and a democracy. He was promptly handed a death sentence and has spent the past two years in jail. Thanks to popular protest and indignation, however, the Supreme Leader of Iran, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, has ordered a review of his case, and Aghajari has been freed on bail.

Overwhelmed with joy at his provisional freedom, Aghajari stated: “I hope there will come a day when no-one goes to prison in Iran for his opinions, let alone be sentenced to death … I hope that all prisoners of conscience who have committed no crime will be released soon.”

Iran may not be the glorious Islamic republic that the revolutionaries envisioned in 1979 — indeed, this year hardline clerics abused their power and excluded approximately 2,500 pro-reform candidates from this year’s election — but this event speaks to the power of popular protest to effect change. While American foreign policy has tended to regard Iran — or any theocracy — as anathema to democracy, we should see this event as heartwarming evidence that popular opinion can have a voice in a democratic theocracy.

Mimi Hanaoka

 

Conventional collage, Day 4

These photos were taken at the Democratic National Convention on July 29, 2004, by ITF Contributing Editor Dustin Ross (unless otherwise indicated).


Photo by Henry Belanger


Photo by Victor Tan Chen


Photo by Victor Tan Chen

 

Conventional collage, Day 3

These photos were taken at the Democratic National Convention on July 28, 2004, by ITF Contributing Editor Dustin Ross.

 

Warring factions

In the heart of Boston Common, amid the sunny sky and the neatly manicured lawn, one can find reason to pause during this week’s hectic Democratic Convention.

The American Friends Service Committee has created a poignant exhibit titled “Eyes Wide Open.” Displayed over acres of land are 900 pairs of combat boots, which represent the growing toll of American soldiers who have lost their lives in Iraq.

On both sides of the exhibit, one will also find a chilling reminder of the civilian death toll of this war. Two mountains of shoes have been erected to symbolize the deaths of over 10,000 Iraqi civilians, most of whom remain nameless.

It’s a stark reminder of what’s been lost over the course of this
devastating war. As the death toll mounts, people become accustomed to hearing new casualty numbers. We begin to expect this, and in the midst of it all, the human face of each and every valued life becomes blurred in those who have already met their death, and those who will inevitably face it. It’s a poignant reminder to remember the dreams lost and the lives cut short of each and every individual.

The plea is simple and it is hoped that its meaning will resonate at a time when the Democratic Party is showcasing its revitalized image to the American populace. With Senators Kerry and Edwards and the Democratic Party urging that more troops be sent to consolidate U.S. control over Iraq, the American Friends Service Committee and its supporters say: “Stop the Killing. Bring Our Troops Home. Fund the Dream.”

Noah Merrill, 25 and program co-ordinator for the American Friends Service Commitee, feels that this display higlights the human suffering of the war. “It touches people on a very visceral level — on a very emotional level. This transcends politics. I hope that some of the representatives of the Democratic Party take this opportunity to see this and to comment on it.”

Steven Lester, 28, who was taking a stroll through Boston Common, was moved by what he saw. “When you see each pair of boots, you imagine a person standing there. It’s a startling reminder of the fact that each of these represents a person who was a living being and is now dead.”

Mary Massie, 48, who came to see the display, thought it had a special significance during this week’s convention. “I think this definitely has a place here at the convention. It’s very moving and it really brings home the fact that it’s a real thing and that we’re going to have a whole lot more boots here if we re-elect Bush.”

Ayah-Victoria McKhail

 

Waging war

You can’t walk around the convention floor without bumping into a war hero. This election year, Democrats are trying to downplay their peace-and-love image and throw some men and women who know how to fire heavy weapons…

You can’t walk around the convention floor without bumping into a war hero. This election year, Democrats are trying to downplay their peace-and-love image and throw some men and women who know how to fire heavy weapons on camera. They include decorated soldiers from conflicts past, such as Max Cleland, the former senator from Georgia who lost three limbs in the Vietnam War. In a few hours Cleland will say some words about his fellow Vietnam Veteran, John Kerry, and present him to the convention’s assembled delegates for the first time.

Veterans, however, are a growing commodity, thanks to the ongoing hostilities in Iraq and Afghanistan. They include young men like Jeremy Broussard, a 27-year-old African American who served in southern Iraq as a captain in the U.S. Army, providing fire support to the Marines during the U.S.-led invasion of that country. Broussard, a native of New Orleans, is at the Fleet Center this week to show solidarity with the Democratic Party and its veteran nominee. “A big concern of mine is the [Bush] administration is not honest with the American people about what’s happening in Iraq,” he says. “… The main enemy on 9/11 was Al Qaeda. And Al Qaeda was in Afghanistan. We’re sending it all into Iraq, and what you’re seeing is Afghanistan is on the backburner.”

The Bush administration, Broussard says, has also failed to support the troops fully when they’ve come home, cutting pay and benefits for enlisted men and women: “They’re doing photo ops with vets, but in reality [veterans] are getting stabbed in the back.” Morale is at a low, he says: Before the Iraq War started, the worst assignment was in South Korea, guarding the no man’s land between that country and nuke-empowered North Korea. Nowadays, however, so many soldiers want to be transferred to South Korea that their requests are being denied. “They’ll go” to Iraq, Broussard says of his fellow soldiers. “They’ll do their service. But they don’t want to be there.”

Even pro-Kerry veterans like Broussard, however, are not necessarily enamored of the anti-war wing of the Democratic Party. Broussard says that he saw Michael Moore’s film, Fahrenheit 9/11, which includes interviews with soldiers serving in Iraq. But Broussard feels the depiction of soldiers in the film — for instance, a segment in which a G.I. speaks with relish of gunning down insurgents with heavy metal music ringing in his ears — was “two-dimensional.” “I want to make sure that people understand that soldiers are not mindless killing machines. No one enjoys it … But we’re there to do a job.”

It’s clear that Kerry needs to keep the anti-war faction of the party from breaking ranks while also not alienating veterans like Broussard, many of whom — in spite of the all the alleged deception and undisputed toll in human life in Iraq — do not wish the United States to pull out and leave a power vacuum in that Middle Eastern country. The abundance of veterans on the stage this week — including the former NATO commander, General Wesley Clark, tonight — seems to indicate that the Kerry team is leaning decisively in one direction.

Victor Tan Chen

Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen

 

Conventional collage, Day 2

These photos were taken at the Democratic National Convention on July 27, 2004, by ITF Contributing Editor Dustin Ross.

 

Random GOP’ers

Here’s a run-down of my run-ins with the GOP rapid-response team in Boston so far:

1.  Abercrombie guys and gals dressed up as giant flip-flop sandals with signs declaring Kerry to be without conviction. Are all Young Republicans this good looking?

2.  Man pushing baby in stroller outfitted with “Re-elect Bush/Quayle” sign. Not a typo.

3.  “God Hates America” protestors in the Democracy Pen under the T tracks. Why does God hate America, you might ask? Because we looooves the gays and the sodomy.

Hold the complaints — I’m aware that the real GOP operatives aren’t vicious haters, G.H.W. Bush fans, or attractive. But nonetheless, an interesting sampling of identifiable Republicans here in the lefty bastion of Massachusetts.

Scott Winship

 

The unbearable lightness of blogging

I’ve been checking the convention coverage this week, and I’m struck by the dearth of fresh, interesting pieces. Slate’s Dahlia Lithwick provides an apt description of one half of the problem:  

“There is always a rather weird quality to these conventions, in that these speeches are happening right in your living room, yet we in the press are somehow supposed to mediate the experience. We can’t hear as well as you do, or see as well as you do, but we’re supposed to triangulate your direct experience against the fact that we are here. As a consequence, there’s a lot of Media Hall of Mirrors stuff, wherein the press reports on the press, reporting on you.”

If journalists are supposed to give readers a you-are-there perspective but the readers are already there, it’s not surprising that much of the commentary strays deep into the Meta. See, for example, this post.

The other half of the problem is that nothing newsworthy is really occurring here! Not to deny that the experience of attending the Convention is incredible, but the speeches, with a few notable exceptions, are sanitized and generic. The whole four days is tightly scripted. And media representatives outnumber delegates by a 6-to-1 margin.  

Without new developments to report on, commentators have resorted to analyzing the irony, tragedy, drama, and triumph of key speakers’ performances. How must Howard Dean feel, knowing that he was on top for a while? How must Gephardt feel, knowing that the VP slot was nearly his? How frickin’ amazing is Bill Clinton? These are to some degree interesting questions, but they don’t lend themselves to fascinating commentary.

Anyway … omigod, did I tell you I saw Bono yesterday?

Scott Winship

 

MAILBAG: Feeling froggy? Why we care what focus groups think

Been watching the convention on C-SPAN? If you plan to keep watching between Boston and New York, keep an eye out for the focus groups. And beware. They should run a ticker, a la ESPN game scores, at the bottom of the screen: WARNING: INCREDIBLE TIME SUCK! They’re addictive reality television at its lowest ebb. Each group features handpicked characters who are supposed to represent demographics key to this year’s race — NASCAR dads, stay-at-home moms, blacks, Latinos. Most are culled from swing states such as Ohio and Pennsylvania, where people are generally nice and let you cut in traffic. But shut them in a room to talk politics, and they degenerate into characters more conflict-prone than the entire cast of Real World I, II, and III. Puck made more sense than most of these people.

In that sense, at least, they are representative of a pissed-off, polarized country where no one trusts the “facts” presented to them by either party or the media. The New York Times observes most voters have already made up their minds, and members of the opposing party disapprove of the president more than ever before. The group from Dayton that appeared on C-SPAN earlier this week alternately blamed Bush and Kerry for the loss of manufacturing jobs overseas, abortion law, and the war in Iraq. Their chief complaint: The candidates have no mind of their own and are pandering instead to focus groups just like them.

The candidates have reason to care what these characters think. According to The Cincinnati Enquirer, “The ‘Dayton housewife’ set the standard for the average middle-American voter. Richard Scammon and Ben Wattenberg, in their 1970 book The Real Majority, argued that candidates who spoke to her issues win presidential elections.” Or, as one reviewer wrote, they “Attempted to warn the Democratic Party not to pander to ‘trendy’ groups of voters, but instead to focus on the ‘unpoor, unblack and unyoung’ [sic] (that is, the average American voter) in order to achieve success at the polls. Much has changed in this country in the intervening thirty-odd years, but its message is one that, actually, the Republicans have been heeding more nationally.”

As opposed to Dayton Stepford wives of yore, the Enquirer found, “By and large, these swing voters are a gloomy bunch. Asked to describe the mood of the country, they use words like ‘unsettled,’ ‘upheaval’ and ‘falling apart.’” They also use words like “teeter totter” “schmaltzy” and “froggy.” “‘Things start looking good, and then they start to teeter-totter back down,’ said Jody Blair, 33, a Centerville housewife, mom, puppeteer and former teacher.” What do people like Blair really tell us? Not much about the election, but they certainly show a colorful America unafraid to share its opinions — bizarre and baseless though they may be.

One group member said she decided to vote for Bush based on a chain email letter that claimed Teresa Heinz Kerry failed to provide health insurance for employees. If this was genuine Reality TV, she would have been voted out of the airless office space right then. Instead, the C-SPAN moderator kept her hushed up while counterparts dismissed Nader as “a fossil” and “a hippie,” and called Kerry “stiff” and “schmaltzy.” But Cheryl Maggard, 48, a house cleaner from Lebanon, Ohio, came up with the best dis on a candidate yet – “froggy,” for President Bush. She was, of course, talking about his stance on the war in Iraq. “He jumped too quick,” she said, veering off into a mixed metaphor. “You don’t get into a fight if you don’t know where the exit is.”

—Anonymous

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