Mandela’s Eyes

by

Don’t play around the course he got the took
the rook the crook the snook all were
pasted upon him like a long vicious learning
there is all of Africa all of night all the
every trace of sweet hurt distilled like
cobalt turned into night the distant moon
a door to where no one wants to go Mandela’s
face is naturally political like the disposition
of an Angel the smile a postage stamp of
verifiable desire Love glowing & objective
What amazes our enemies is that we all
fit into his suit so elegantly

and alive

Originally published in First of the Month in 1999.

 

Love Song for Lou Reed

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Dead, you’re the critics’ darling. When I was a teen, you were mine. Each morning I lifted The Velvet Underground and Nico from its sleeve, watched it spin, waited for Sunday Morning’s opening notes to warm me like a junk rush.

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Isaac and Isaiah

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It is reliably said that during Isaiah Berlin’s youth his pampering mother used to rouse him from sleep with the question, “What are we going to do today?” To which the answer was: “Nothing.” Perhaps Marie Berlin became the nicest kind of Stalin in his subconscious.[1]

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The Syrian Civil War: What Is to Be Done?

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The government shutdown and debt ceiling mess deflected attention from the Syria crisis. But Eugene Goodheart’s careful analysis of that situation is still on time. We begin his latest dispatch on Obama’s “trimming” with a forward-looking “postscript” the author added to his original piece.

As for Obama’s ambivalence about going to war and his openness about it (unusual in a president), I find it admirable in its authenticity. In acting in a crisis, however, one has to overcome ambivalence. Obama has already shown himself on other occasions capable of acting decisively. Our role in the Syrian civil war has not yet played itself out. Final judgments are premature…

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To Intervene or Not to Intervene

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Eugene Goodheart’s analysis of the Syrian quandary doesn’t take in the story’s latest twists, but it comprehends the president’s humane, cautious approach to the issue. Goodheart’s piece amounts to an addendum to the case he makes in his new book, Holding the Center: In Defense of Political Trimming, which places Obama’s default stance within a specific Euro-American tradition of liberal thinkers and politicians. A short review of Goodheart’s deeply informed text follows this piece.

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Confessions of a Spiritual Pornographer

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You write. Your friends say, “I liked it.” They say, “You’re really a good writer,” like it still comes as a surprise. You don’t blame them. If everyone could say something memorable, everyone would be Oscar Wilde.

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Anti-Fascist Art Class

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The author gave this commencement address at the School of Visual Arts on 19 May 2013.

marcus1.png
I’m not here today to offer advice or even encouragement. I’m here to talk about art and audience, about art and the people it reaches—and what happens when it does.

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Going Pop: From Hirschhorn’s Folly to Macklemore’s Heist

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The wiz behind the Gramsci Monument erected this summer—and now disassembled—in the center of a South Bronx Housing Project is no Oz. Thomas Hirschhorn is sincere about “doing art in a public space.” He was a presence at his creation, which was open every day this summer. The artist meant to stretch himself before and after his opening, living in the hood, hanging out at his Monument.

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Hail Atlantis: A Sandy Survivor’s Tale

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On the morning of October 29, 2012, I get a phone call from Surfer Laura. She’s adamant, “Donna, Don’t leave!!” Like all my neighbors, she urges me to stick it out. The overly-hyped Hurricane Irene of the previous season had left Long Beach residents somewhat skeptical. Lots of drama and then…nothing. “Stay put, they won’t let you back in, they’ll close the parkways, there could be looting, you won’t be able to get home.” Laura’s warning is echoed across town. Civitas Ad Mare, situated between the mighty Atlantic and Reynold’s Channel, our precious City by the Sea is under siege. Who else but us, the water people of the Earth will stand strong to defend it? No sweat, I remind Laura, “I’m a Rockaway girl. We don’t back down.”

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Me and Petrarch

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my love’s way beyond unrequited
I need a new word now
to describe the yearning of yearning for someone
I’ve never even found

me and Petrarch
sitting in a tree
he’s gonna be married
long before me

Estrellita’s is a world-class wit but her stuff is more than clever. It’s deep too. And it’s getting deeper. Dig Estrellita’s new stretchy collection of lyrics which starts with a Rolling Stones tribute and ends on “Petrarch’s Ark.”

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Lead Us On

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Ta-Nehisi Coates’ first take on Obama’s impromptu speech after the Trayvon Martin verdict still seems on point: “No president has ever done this before. It does not matter that the competition is limited. The impact of the highest official in the country directly feeling your pain, because it is his pain, is real. And it is happening now. And it is significant.” But Coates’ clarity about wha’ppen is already at risk given news cycle mindlessness.

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Ain’ Time Yet: Colliding Eras in Lebron’s Stormy Reign

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I. Tim’s Late Spring

A summer’s worth of blockbuster trades has radically shifted the traditional power axes in the NBA, as franchises move either to rebuild (Lakers and Celtics) or to weld together groups of superstars, some of them aging (New Jersey’s Nets, the LA Clippers) to challenge the budding Miami Heat dynasty. It could be a time of upheaval, with outgoing NBA Commissioner David Stern preparing to ride into the sunset in darkest February, after his thirty year reign—wearing a baseball cap, of course, and smiling, of course. With the smell of beer suds now washed from living room rugs after the thrilling Miami-San Antonio Finals, it’s an apt time to look at the state of the league, now LeBron’s League, it appears; inevitably, inexorably, but how justifiably?

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