Annual Fundraising Appeal

Here’s an important message to CounterPunch readers from
BARBARA EHRENREICH…

BarbaraE

Here at CounterPunch we love Barbara Ehrenreich for many reasons: her courage, her intelligence and her untarnished optimism. Ehrenreich knows what’s important in life; she knows how hard most Americans have to work just to get by, and she knows what it’s going to take to forge radical change in this country. We’re proud to fight along side her in this long struggle.  We hope you agree with Barbara that CounterPunch plays a unique role on the Left. Our future is in your hands. Please donate.

Day9

Yes, these are dire political times. Many who optimistically hoped for real change have spent nearly five years under the cold downpour of political reality. Here at CounterPunch we’ve always aimed to tell it like it is, without illusions or despair. That’s why so many of you have found a refuge at CounterPunch and made us your homepage. You tell us that you love CounterPunch because the quality of the writing you find here in the original articles we offer every day and because we never flinch under fire. We appreciate the support and are prepared for the fierce battles to come.

Unlike other outfits, we don’t hit you up for money every month … or even every quarter. We ask only once a year. But when we ask, we mean it.

CounterPunch’s website is supported almost entirely by subscribers to the print edition of our magazine. We aren’t on the receiving end of six-figure grants from big foundations. George Soros doesn’t have us on retainer. We don’t sell tickets on cruise liners. We don’t clog our site with deceptive corporate ads.

The continued existence of CounterPunch depends solely on the support and dedication of our readers. We know there are a lot of you. We get thousands of emails from you every day. Our website receives millions of hits and nearly 100,000 readers each day. And we don’t charge you a dime.

Please, use our brand new secure shopping cart to make a tax-deductible donation to CounterPunch today or purchase a subscription our monthly magazine and a gift sub for someone or one of our explosive  books, including the ground-breaking Killing Trayvons. Show a little affection for subversion: consider an automated monthly donation. (We accept checks, credit cards, PayPal and cold-hard cash….)
button-store2_19

or use
pp1

To contribute by phone you can call Becky or Deva toll free at: 1-800-840-3683

Thank you for your support,

Jeffrey, Joshua, Becky, Deva, and Nathaniel

CounterPunch
 PO Box 228, Petrolia, CA 95558

 Adirondack Night by EMILY SPENCE The moon gently ascends out of a stand of quiet birch. It backlights them so the edge of each limb, twig and leaf is momentarily lit up and etched with dazzling white brilliance. Drenched in light, each lacy bough stands out, blazing in vivid detail. Then as the moon rises, […]

Spence, Haeder and Beaudin

by POETS' BASEMENT

 Adirondack Night

by EMILY SPENCE

The moon gently ascends out of a stand of quiet birch.
It backlights them
so the edge of each limb, twig and leaf
is momentarily lit up and etched
with dazzling white brilliance.

Drenched in light,
each lacy bough stands out,
blazing in vivid detail.
Then as the moon rises,
the birch gradually sink back to a dull grayish mass –
a murky blur pressed against a wall of sheer starry sky.
-
My eyes follow the moon upward on its path
as it weaves through stars
riding their own patterns across the night.
Past the moon,
I construct in my thought what is further out –
dense blue suns, huge black holes,
swirling cosmic debris,
lifeless silence and infinite emptiness,
an emptiness replete with itself.
I feel disturbed, lonely and sad
as I measure the smallness of life
against the stretching immensity
of that cold timelessness.

Then, my glance returns to the splendid birch,
and to nearby mountains–
lumpy mountains I regard as friends
because I have loved them dearly,
know their  slopes as intimately
as the palms of my hands.
They conceal a great section of sky from sight
and tonight, I find solace in that cut-off view.
-
Surrounded by birch and mountains,
I measure the small landscape that they provide my life
against the infinity the universe engulfs,
and the eons grown obscure.

Against such vastness and mystery
my close surroundings cradle me,
bring tender aching love for intimate
familiarity.

 

Emily Spence is a teacher in MA, USA. She has written poetry since a young child , and was the recipient of assorted awards, fellowships and grants, including from NEH and the Ford Foundation. Emily’s art and writing have showcased in galleries and museum exhibits, including at the S. R. Guggenheim’s “Learning to Read through the Arts” show.

 

 

Stranded in Stumptown, Brother, Can You Spare A Twenty?
by PAUL K. HAEDER
Salem, Oregon

He calls Houston home, 27 years after reaching
northern hemisphere stars, afterglow of Dak To
napalm sunrise lingers, aged 14,
“… first time on boat, no way, no way for me . . .”
DNA bloodline tied to fish, Nguyen (Win) Van Sinh,
stranded in Portland,  finger-printed, shuffled jail to jail
“honorable mention” for Win’s warrant,  grandly issued
to all homeless – vagrancy –  Salem cops feed like maggots
on throw-away flesh, electrodes grounded  & bond to badges,
jailers laugh, people cornered between Hills 875 & 876 –
Apocalypse Now planet, night-vision scope focused on Win,
hunter’s law, Pacific coast swarms with radiated fish.

My stout-mouth flapped… humorous, intense,
actionable – “Sir, no, sir, I understand, but
America owns collateral damage, unspeakable millions.”
Thrown down, I am Tom Petty & Heartbreakers
dog-town cathedral, “I can’t back down.”
Charges exhaust out antibacterial air, cling low to insane asylum floor,
ancient lies stick to my swinging dick; I sit still, steam,
listen to tattooed cops boast about beer blasts, pieces of ass,
“Hey, hipster Haeder, whaddya say now?”

Posters on wall: “Support our Troops,”
“FBI’s Most Wanted, ” “Hard Cash for Tips”
“Join the US Border Patrol Today”

Six-hour lock-up, six more than Tricky Dick,
others in Stumptown wrangled  72 hours,
paraded into courts where juvies plead community service
for spit balls in-class . . . man, Win, he’s 41, popped for
vagrancy, behind bars, “failure to appear,”
Oh shit — he’s old enough to drink at V.F.W.’s, pay dues,
take “fix” behind Flying J latrine doors.
On road, he’s animal embryo, democracy devolving,
waiting for Agent Orange sunrise to lift South China Sea.
Win passes through metal-detector arch, “…Chúc ong di bình yên
…safe trip, Professor  Haeder,”
freer than anything god released from Egypt,
he humps pack along Columbia River,
only way Win knows how to stay clean, acceptable.
Under Tet constellation, Sterno light,
forgotten by enemy & IRS,
Mike-Mikes fire 300 rounds per second,
Win jumps stump-to-stump, “vagrant,”
he hears Salem cop-posse talk, fire-tracers, say,
“Chalk up one more in place he don’t belong.”

 

Paul Haeder is a teacher, photographer, and journalist living in Vancouver, WA. He’s worked in
radio, had poems, fiction and creative non-fiction published in House Organ, the William and
Mary Review,
and Small Pond Review of Literature.  Paul worked for newspapers in Southern
Arizona and Southwest Texas for years. He edits “School Yard Fights” at Dissident Voice.

Results
by MARC BEAUDIN

As a child he knelt down to pray
then, later
drunk
he knelt down to puke

The results were roughly the same

 

Marc Beaudin is the regular editor of Poets’ Basement. He’s thankful to Chuck for filling in this week, and for asking for a poem to include. More CrowVoice.com.

 

 

This edition of Poets Basement was guest-edited by Charles Orloski, Taylor, Pennsylvania.  Along with the late-Stew Albert, Orloski’s a veteran-rider on Poets Basement since Operation Phantom Fury, 2004.  The poems were selected in honor of author’s passion for roaming mountains and justice.  Orloski can be reached at orlovzek13@aol.com.

 

 

Editorial Note: (Please Read Closely Before Submitting)

 

Poets Basement is now on Facebook. Find us as http://www.facebook.com/poets.basement.

 

To submit to Poets Basement, send an e-mail to CounterPunch’s poetry editor, Marc Beaudin at counterpunchpoetry@gmail.com with your name, the titles being submitted, and your website url or e-mail address (if you’d like this to appear with your work).  Also indicate whether or not your poems have been previously published and where.  For translations, include poem in original language and documentation of granted reprint/translation rights.  Attach up to 5 poems and a short bio, written in 3rd person, as a single Word Document (.doc or .rtf attachments only; no .docx – use “Save As” to change docx files to “.doc”).  Expect a response within two months (occasionally longer during periods of heavy submissions). Submissions not following the guidelines may or may not receive a response.

 

Poems accepted for online publication will be considered for possible inclusion of an upcoming print anthology.

 

For more details, tips and suggestions, visit http://crowvoice.com/poets-basement. Thanks!