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Monthly Archives: December 2014


They lie in their long hair, and the brown faces
have long ago withdrawn into themselves.
Eyes shut, as though before too great a distance.
Skeletons, mouths, flowers. Inside the mouths,
the shiny teeth like rows of pocket chessmen.
And flowers, yellow pearls, slender bones,
hands and tunics, woven cloth decaying
over the shriveled heart. But there, beneath
those rings, beneath the talismans and gems
and precious stones like blue eyes (lovers’ keepsakes),
there still remains the silent crypt of sex,
filled to its vaulted roof with flower-petals.
And yellow pearls again, unstrung and scattered,
vessels of fired clay on which their own
portraits once were painted, the green fragments
of perfume jars that smelled like flowers, and images
of little household gods upon their altars:
courtesan-heavens with enraptured gods.
Broken waistbands, scarabs carved in jade,
small statues with enormous genitals,
a laughing mouth, dancing-girls, runners,
golden clasps that look like tiny bows
for shooting bird- and beast-shaped amulets,
ornamented knives and spoons, long needles,
a roundish light-red potsherd upon which
the stiff legs of a team of horses stand
like the dark inscription above an entryway.
And flowers again, pearls that have rolled apart,
the shining flanks of a little gilded lyre;
and in between the veils that fall like mist,
as though it had crept out from the shoe’s chrysalis:
the delicate pale butterfly of the ankle.

And so they lie, filled to the brim with Things,
expensive Things, jewels, toys, utensils,
broken trinkets (how much fell into them!)
and they darken as a river’s bottom darkens.
For they were riverbeds once,
and over them in brief, impetuous waves
(each wanting to prolong itself, forever)
the bodies of countless adolescents surged;
and in them roared the currents of grown men.
And sometimes boys would burst forth from the mountains
of childhood, would descend in timid streams
and play with what they found on the river’s bottom,
until the steep slope gripped their consciousness:

Then they filled, with clear, shallow water,
the whole breadth of this broad canal, and set
little whirlpools turning in the depths,
and for the first time mirrored the green banks
and distant calls of birds—, while in the sky
the starry nights of another, sweeter country
blossomed above them and would never close.



“The long and fascinating history of prediction. According to economist Tim Harford, billions of dollars are spent on experts who claim they can forecast what’s around the corner in business, finance and economics. Seeing into the future fascinated economists John Maynard Keynes and Irving Fisher in the 1920s. And more recently US intelligence agencies have funded research into super forecasting.”
http://www.abc.net.au/radionational/programs/breakfast/why-most-expert-2015-predictions-will-be-wrong/5993266
http://www.bbc.co.uk/podcasts/series/moreorless

Apex Express

Sammy Lopez leading the round dance Sammy Lopez leading the round dance


Download the audio by clicking here.

For our annual show of No Thanks to colonization and imperialism, we take you back to 518 Valencia Eric Quezada Center for Culture and Politics on Day of Indigenous Resistance. While some people call it Columbus Day, the Center for Political Education hosted their annual event, My Heroes Have Always Killed Colonizers. Tonight we think about whose country this is, we’ll hear from poets and musicians representing cultures from across the globe.

Plus, we take you to the streets of Oakland after the grand jury ruling in Ferguson with a powerful segment as our community heals and grows and we remind ourselves as interviewee Navina Khanna says, “We only win if we’re all in this together.”

Hands Up. Don't Shoot. Oakland protests the grand jury decision. Photo by Cece Carpio Hands Up. Don’t Shoot. Oakland protests the grand jury decision. Photo by Cece Carpio

Community Calendar

Walmart vs. the World: Putting one of the Worst Climate Criminals on Trial
Walmart’s war on workers…

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