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Fall 2000
Issue 15

"Whose Streets? Our Streets!!” A Gen-X Correspondent Reports from the National Conventions
by Kerul Dyer

Deep Green Rising, May Day 2000
by William Benz

Leaving Home:
Eastern Oregon Breakfast, Ralph Nader, and the New Politics of Reconciliation
by Ness Mountain

Bush and Gore Make Me Wanna Ralph
A Letter to the Non-Voters of America
by Michael Moore

Shelter That Sustains
by Becky Kemery

The War on Drugs =
A War on Sick People and Doctors
by Rick Bayer, MD

Bug Chasers
by Daniel Hill

Dreams of Kindness, Love and Grace
by Carolyn Berry

Conflict and Love
by Stan Siver

On The Path
by Bob Czimbal

The Dance of Raven and Eagle
by Hanneli Francis

Deep Green Rising
by William P. Benz

"We who have remained in Madrid are still eating."
~ reply from the Communist Defenders of Madrid to
Socialist Prime Minister Caballero’s request for the silverware he left behind in his hasty abdication preceding the City’s Siege by Fascist Franco, November, 1936.

Beneath a threshold of sensibility
there drones a set of electromagnetic frequencies,
cleaved & pigeonholed into doing
the Work of the so called, Commonwealth.
Which now, is neither Wealth, nor Common.
Cramming airways, it saturates
what’s left of our Heartfelt Tangibility
—dowsing our Bodies with pulses & oughts.
Our Blessed Body, ripened in the Late Pleistocene
to sniff & smell & sup & taste,
to sniff & smell & hump & baste, & NOT
obsess, or think, or meditate our selves apart.
Transfused within this Storm, our cells are flooded daily by trillions of flashes from CNN,
modulated by crooning popsongs
extolling a cartoon version of Love
& other comic forms of Ass Deadening Fantasy,
Layered with mindless communiqués
—the ETAs of strung out truckers wired on whites,
the incessant yabbering of SUVers
wired on cellphone tripe,
—dispatches to Police & other Sweepers of the Street
as to the whereabouts of the Most Recent Roadkill.
Electrons, divergent & spewing forth
the slip & rise of stock & bonds that float
Inanities about a Wealth, hollow to its very core.
So how do we Amplify ourselves
Above this wasted current
& tune out the Sitcom called Prosperity
& exit the Superhighway leading Nowhere, fast?
Should we Compete in Kind
by Jacking up to a Feverish Pitch?
To oscillate between smashing a storefront, here,
setting fire to a dumpster, there?
Or letting some plastic bullets black & blue us?
Or getting gassed, pummeled by Masked Men
wielding Batons, promoting compulsive shoppers?
If we do ourselves in only doing that
the Citadel of Culture will remain intact
as we mimic our own unraveling
and further forget Our Basic Naked Truth.
It’s this Hunger for that Remembrance
which allows us to refuse their Menu for Revolt
—crammed with pre-ordained entrée,
Lusciously complete with all the
seditious & insurgent trimmings.
Pushed into our Hands before
the Warmth of Our Fingers & Connecting Breath
can draw us through the Hidden, Swinging Gates,
As the Paradigm that dominates,
supplies the Scripts for Revolution,
insuring no one slips out the Corral,
Scripts to Vent our Rage
& exhaust our meager resources.
Scripts to enforce the Habit of Acquiring Power,
& thus, ensure our Flaccid Demise.
With CNN cued to pixilate the color image
& flash us back as News to ourselves.
So the next morning, the Sleepy Courts
can process the Newly Captive.
So Judges & Jailers & Probation Scabs can herd us through Judicial Feed Lots to be fattened
into Criminal before butchering our meat
To serve as tidbits,
Rewards for those still huddled together,
Obeying their Law.
To truly liberate ourselves
we must know what we are not.
No need to tear down walls
already stinking from internal rot.
To truly liberate ourselves
we must truly know what we are not.
In knowing that,
this Smorgasbord of Uselessness
becomes something we can eat.
A Meal, to satisfy our flesh & blood
not only in the particulars of yours & mine,
but in the Forgotten, Collective OUR.
The Collective OUR
that never needs to catch the Evening News,
or Search the WEB for feeble versions
of what it Always Knows.
A Meal of Knowing we All turn on a Single Orb,
By Day, to Feast upon a Rising Sun.
By Night, to clean our Silver Plate
by lapping up the Light together &
Howling beneath a Remembered Moon,
whether visible or not.

Dedicated to those who gave their lives on the banks of Fuentes de Ebro, 1938, to stop the march of Fascism & to my Sisters & Brothers who live their lives today doing the same.
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