What Kind of Times Are These

BY ADRIENNE RICH

There’s a place between two stands of trees where the grass grows uphill
and the old revolutionary road breaks off into shadows
near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted
who disappeared into those shadows.

I’ve walked there picking mushrooms at the edge of dread, but don’t be fooled
this isn’t a Russian poem, this is not somewhere else but here,
our country moving closer to its own truth and dread,
its own ways of making people disappear.

I won’t tell you where the place is, the dark mesh of the woods
meeting the unmarked strip of light—
ghost-ridden crossroads, leafmold paradise:
I know already who wants to buy it, sell it, make it disappear.

And I won’t tell you where it is, so why do I tell you
anything? Because you still listen, because in times like these
to have you listen at all, it’s necessary
to talk about trees.

DANCE
The choreographic moment, ideas from Jeanine Durning
Anna Sperber at New York Live Arts

MUSIC
Twenty-seven by Amy Klein
Laura Gibson on KEXP

DRUMPF
A comprehensive list of public figures who have supported Trump
Pictures of Nazi rallies at Madison Square Garden

DRUGS
A comprehensive guide to psychedelic drug combinations

COMMENTARY
The staggering toxicity of Vice Principals

HILARITY
I replaced the word Millenials with 43-year-old White Man and now these headlines are…
Longhorn cow scratches itch with his horns

HOW PEOPLE ARE MADE
The literature of pregnancy and new motherhood
Why I’m glad I was raised by a sex-positive mother
Photoessay of birth (NSFW)

MEN’S ISSUES
Women get paid less than men and it’s not women’s fault
Hillary Clinton answers 40 years of ridiculous questions

Image credit
(Pro tip: Email subscribers, click title for pic of young Adrienne Rich)

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