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An Anti-Colonial War Against The Americans May Have Already Begun

An Anti-Colonial War Against The Americans May Have Already Begun An Interview With Robert Fisk On Democracy Now by Robert Fisk and Amy Goodman Democracy Now; April 22, 2003 http://www.zmag.org/content/showarticle.cfm?SectionID=@&ItemID=503 Goodman: After spending a month in Iraq, could you describe your thoughts? Fisk: Well, my assumption is that history has …

Torture and Neo-Liberalism with Sycorax in Iraq

Chapter 39, Order 39 Torture and Neo-Liberalism with Sycorax in Iraq By PETER LINEBAUGH The new U.S. Attorney General, Alberto Gonzalez, disregarded torture in his infamous, post 9/11 memorandum to Bush: “In my judgment, this new paradigm [the ‘war on terrorism’] renders obsolete Geneva’s strict limitations on questioning of enemy …

Acrobatic :: Marilyn Buck

Acrobatic Marilyn Buck an acrobat I slice through the sky somersault swing toward hands they slip           disappear      free           i fall no net           i fall           caught by lime-scented dirt bones quake      sigh — articulate rebound piano wires      sing with my weight a moon jumper …

Bird Watchers :: Marilyn Buck

Bird Watchers Marilyn Buck Francine, elegant, headwrapped willowy firm on cinnamon legs leans toward Nancy frayed blonde rope of a woman bleached on the back of Harleys      and crystal meth two keen bird watchers they chat while feeding purloined delectables to plump Canadian geese contented vacationers once the geese …

Black August :: Marilyn Buck

Black August Marilyn Buck Would you hang on a cliff’s edge sword-sharp, slashing fingers while jackboot screws stomp heels on peeled-flesh bones and laugh      “let go! die, damn you, die!” could you hang on 20 years, 30 years? 20 years, 30 years and more brave Black brothers buried in …

Moon Bereft :: Marilyn Buck

Moon Bereft Marilyn Buck Beyond razor-wired walls the moon shimmers in the late summer sky spills over in pale brightness to draw me into its fullness washing my eyes in quicksilver Now, in a heavy-lidded cell moon-bereft nights leave me weeping tears well up in dry cratered wounds despair rises …

Wild Poppies

I remember red poppies, wild behind the school house I didn’t want to be there, but I loved to watch the poppies I used to sit in the window of my room, sketching charcoal trees what happened to those magnolia trees, to that girl? I went off to college, escaped …