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PARIS, THE NEW NORMAL? — Diana Johnstone files an in-depth report from Paris on the political reaction to the Charlie Hebdo shootings; The Treachery of the Black Political Class: Margaret Kimberley charts the rise and fall of the Congressional Black Caucus; The New Great Game: Pepe Escobar assays the game-changing new alliance between Russia and Turkey; Will the Frackers Go Bust? Joshua Frank reports on how the collapse of global oil prices might spell the end of the fracking frenzy in the Bakken Shale; The Future of the Giraffe: Ecologist Monica Bond reports from Tanzania on the frantic efforts to save one of the world’s most iconic species. Plus: Jeffrey St. Clair on Satire in the Service of Power; Chris Floyd on the Age of Terrorism and Absurdity; Mike Whitney on the Drop Dead Fed; John Wight on the rampant racism of Clint Eastwood’s “American Sniper;” John Walsh on Hillary Clinton and Lee Ballinger on the Gift of Anger.
Poor Poe turned white and cold and hollered out into the hollow deep: Where is the tin can that contains my heart? It is full of worms and other organisms. It cannot make a peep. Edgar paints his skin with soil. Poor thing wronged again, Paint it black it might bleed oil. A well, oozing […]

From Your Young Cousin

by JULIA LANDAU

Poor Poe turned white and cold
and hollered out into the hollow deep:
Where is the tin can that contains my heart?
It is full of worms and other organisms.
It cannot make a peep.

Edgar paints his skin with soil.
Poor thing wronged again,
Paint it black it might bleed oil.
A well, oozing in relief,
Is finally spent.

Oh, soft dark bottom, breathing becomes you,
You are too tired to be cautious.
Paint to black, I say! Love the night!
I never knew you to be so suspicious
(never victim so pernicious)

But it’s easy to get carried away–
To cry out to unselfish blind angels,
To mistrust blackhearted love
Which is not warm, but beats and bleeds
(A victim so pernicious)

Porcupine takes a laugh from the spine
Breastfed on bourbon
She never liked the stuff
And stands aghast at the clothesline.
"I could never touch cotton."

"Rough stitches," said the yarn
"I don’t want to raise alarm,
But me and hay are at odds
Since we fought it out in the barn."

You were born solo, I was a twin
Earth is set in her ways,
She’ll never make it back again.
Go tell the old rooster to crow.

JULIA LANDAU can be reached at: julia@julialandau.com