Click amount to donate direct to CounterPunch
  • $25
  • $50
  • $100
  • $500
  • $other
  • use PayPal
Keep CounterPunch ad free. Support our annual fund drive today!

There’s No Place Like CounterPunch

There's no place like CounterPunch, it's just that simple. And as the radical space within the "alternative media"(whatever that means) landscape continues to shrink, sanctuaries such as CounterPunch become all the more crucial for our political, intellectual, and moral survival. Add to that the fact that CounterPunch won't inundate you with ads and corporate propaganda. So it should be clear why CounterPunch needs your support: so it can keep doing what it's been doing for nearly 25 years. As CP Editor, Jeffrey St. Clair, succinctly explained, "We lure you in, and then punch you in the kidneys." Pleasant and true though that may be, the hard-working CP staff is more than just a few grunts greasing the gears of the status quo.

So come on, be a pal, make a tax deductible donation to CounterPunch today to support our annual fund drive, if you have already donated we thank you! If you haven't, do it because you want to. Do it because you know what CounterPunch is worth. Do it because CounterPunch needs you. Every dollar is tax-deductible. (PayPal accepted)

Thank you,
Eric Draitser



Why do they love Sharon? Because he is heavy he is wide he is stuffed, has invisible edges, but he is whole, continuous, and he rises, and rises again, always rolling. And when he sits it all comes to him, meat, money, real estate. For he is not weak, not transparent, doesn’t tremble as a leaf, but is sealed, viscid, with thickness, not crispy, he is flexible, usable, lies around, crouches, takes over space, shelters, hides, fences, blocks. For he opens his mouth, gluttonous, swallows, unashamed to take a meat ball off the table with the cartons of fries, teaches to satisfy the appetite, to take things, to enlarge the mass, the territory, the quantities. For he opens cracks, windows, roads in the landscape, breaks even through cement or iron, but always closes it as well, cuts off corners, remembers to lock up, to fortify, doesn’t leave a crack for a lizard, but reaches his arm as if through a sleeve of doubt, and seals it all, with a wall, with a tank, with housing, with ownership, with a platoon. For he smiles, smiles as a round man, rounds things up, moves around like a pancake, bypasses, flanks, circles, and returns again in a different cycle. For he shares his smile generously, and everyone is invited to smile, even in the mud, even over the pool of blood. For he sticks his hand in the pocket, elbows, pats on the back. For he commands, moves people, moves vehicles, moves houses, moves a tree, a field, borders. For he carries the wars in his arms like suitcases, as if heading for a trip. And everything within them is organized, the living and the dead, like folded shirts, ironed underwear, clean socks, handkerchiefs. Suitcase by suitcase all lined up, each made of shiny leather, with a padded leather handle,  accessorized at the corners, with shiny nickel buckles and bolts. For if he will go, disappear, he will no longer be heavy, wide, stuffed, with invisible edges. He will be incomplete, incontinuous, won’t rise and rise again, will never roll. He will not sit, and nothing will come to him. Not meat, not money, not real estate. For he will be weak, transparent, will tremble as a leaf, will be unsealed, inviscid, not thick, crispy, inflexible, unusable, will never lie around, won’t crouch, won’t take over space, will not shelter, not hide, not fence, not block. For he won’t open his mouth, won’t be gluttonous, won’t swallow, won’t take a meat ball off the table with the cartons of fries. He won’t teach: not to satisfy the appetite, not to take things, and not to enlarge the mass, the territory, the quantities. He won’t open cracks, windows, roads in the landscape, won’t even break through cement or iron, and will never close anything, won’t cut off corners, won’t remember to lock up, to fortify, he will leave a crack for a lizard, won’t reach his arm as if through a sleeve of doubt, and won’t seal, not with a wall, not with a tank, not with housing, not with ownership, nor with a. platoon. He won’t smile, will never smile as a round man, won’t round things up, won’t move around like a pancake, bypass, flank, circle, and won’t return again in a different cycle. He won’t share his smile generously, and won’t encourage anyone to smile, not in the mud, not over the pool of blood. He won’t stick his hand in his pocket, won’t elbow, won’t pat on the back. He won’t command, won’t move people, won’t move vehicles, won’t move houses, won’t move a tree, a field, a border. He shall not carry the wars in his arms like suitcases, as if heading for a trip, and nothing, neither the living nor the dead, will be organized like folded shirts, ironed underwear, clean socks, handkerchiefs. The suitcases will no longer stand, lined up suitcase by suitcase, each made of shiny leather, with a padded leather handle, accessorized at the corners, with shiny nickel buckles and bolts.

Aharon Shabtai is an Israeli poet, whose prose-poem “Sharon” will appear in With Our Eyes Wide Open: Poems of the New American Century (West End Press, March 2014). 
More articles by:

2016 Fund Drive
Smart. Fierce. Uncompromised. Support CounterPunch Now!

  • cp-store
  • donate paypal

CounterPunch Magazine


October 25, 2016
David Swanson
Halloween Is Coming, Vladimir Putin Isn’t
Hiroyuki Hamada
Fear Laundering: an Elaborate Psychological Diversion and Bid for Power
Priti Gulati Cox
President Obama: Before the Empire Falls, Free Leonard Peltier and Mumia Abu-Jamal
Kathy Deacon
Plus ça Change: Regime Change 1917-1920
Robin Goodman
Appetite for Destruction: America’s War Against Itself
Richard Moser
On Power, Privilege, and Passage: a Letter to My Nephew
Rev. William Alberts
The Epicenter of the Moral Universe is Our Common Humanity, Not Religion
Dan Bacher
Inspector General says Reclamation Wasted $32.2 Million on Klamath irrigators
David Mattson
A Recipe for Killing: the “Trust Us” Argument of State Grizzly Bear Managers
Derek Royden
The Tragedy in Yemen
Ralph Nader
Breaking Through Power: It’s Easier Than We Think
Norman Pollack
Centrist Fascism: Lurching Forward
Guillermo R. Gil
Cell to Cell Communication: On How to Become Governor of Puerto Rico
Mateo Pimentel
You, Me, and the Trolley Make Three
Cathy Breen
“Today Is One of the Heaviest Days of My Life”
October 24, 2016
John Steppling
The Unwoke: Sleepwalking into the Nightmare
Oscar Ortega
Clinton’s Troubling Silence on the Dakota Access Pipeline
Patrick Cockburn
Aleppo vs. Mosul: Media Biases
John Grant
Humanizing Our Militarized Border
Franklin Lamb
US-led Sanctions Targeting Syria Risk Adjudication as War Crimes
Paul Bentley
There Must Be Some Way Out of Here: the Silence of Dylan
Norman Pollack
Militarism: The Elephant in the Room
Patrick Bosold
Dakota Access Oil Pipeline: Invite CEO to Lunch, Go to Jail
Paul Craig Roberts
Was Russia’s Hesitation in Syria a Strategic Mistake?
David Swanson
Of All the Opinions I’ve Heard on Syria
Weekend Edition
October 21, 2016
Friday - Sunday
John Wight
Hillary Clinton and the Brutal Murder of Gaddafi
Diana Johnstone
Hillary Clinton’s Strategic Ambition in a Nutshell
Jeffrey St. Clair
Roaming Charges: Trump’s Naked and Hillary’s Dead
John W. Whitehead
American Psycho: Sex, Lies and Politics Add Up to a Terrifying Election Season
Stephen Cooper
Hell on Earth in Alabama: Inside Holman Prison
Patrick Cockburn
13 Years of War: Mosul’s Frightening and Uncertain Future
Rob Urie
Name the Dangerous Candidate
Pepe Escobar
The Aleppo / Mosul Riddle
David Rosen
The War on Drugs is a Racket
Sami Siegelbaum
Once More, the Value of the Humanities
Cathy Breen
“Today Is One of the Heaviest Days of My Life”
Neve Gordon
Israel’s Boycott Hypocrisy
Mark Hand
Of Pipelines and Protest Pens: When the Press Loses Its Shield
Victor Wallis
On the Stealing of U.S. Elections
Michael Hudson
The Return of the Repressed Critique of Rentiers: Veblen in the 21st century Rentier Capitalism
Brian Cloughley
Drumbeats of Anti-Russia Confrontation From Washington to London
Howard Lisnoff
Still Licking Our Wounds and Hoping for Change
Brian Gruber
Iraq: There Is No State
Peter Lee
Trump: We Wish the Problem Was Fascism
Stanley L. Cohen
Equality and Justice for All, It Seems, But Palestinians