A Rorschach test for our times could not be more ready made than the one which surfaced this weekend from Washington, D.C.: a smirking young man in a MAGA hat face to face with a shorter, older Native American man beating a drum.
Cue your rush to judgment.
69 Down, “Ascend, 2 wds.”: G-O-U-P
70 Down, “Rose sniffer”: N-O-S-E
87 Across, “Yearn for.”
I came to the river at breaking of day,
and dropped into clear, still waters.
My sensible backyard fence has nothing
against winter quail.
It stands six feet tall to keep out dogs
and keep in tension.
for Nicole Ringgold
The silversmith smiths
at her overworked bench,
an open secret behind garden shop walls.
I could ask how many lovers you’ve had
or when the last time was that you cried.
I might pry into your innermost fears
and damage your psyche or pride.
The morning sun reflects a hundred thousand times
off Andalusian seas.
The seer sat at the postern gate and
exchanged words with the pharisee thus:
Our city is strong! We are
the walls of salvation!
Strive to enter this narrow
many who seek to will fail
Grant me a patient story.
Read it in me slowly.
End it with a whisper
Gently calling it to rest.
What did Shackleton take his men out to see?
A frigid flag shaking in the Antarctic breeze,
Marking the most extreme point of the planet?
No, I tell you: something far greater than this.