TRUMP AS A FIRE WITHOUT LIGHT #76
The sweat of hate makes us all think we need to be rewritten into elegy. It would be better, I think, to be nothing at all than to remove the integral pieces of the few. Humanity for all. Humanity for all. Humanity for Donald J. Trump. May he find humanity before we are forced to rest against the zero.
TRUMP AS A FIRE WITHOUT LIGHT #77
We don’t need the plates. We just need the food. If we give him our plates, will he still let us eat?
TRUMP AS A FIRE WITHOUT LIGHT #78
I’ve seen all of his horses march in his hand. What do you think he does with those tiny bones when he loosens his grip? He isn’t an actual giant, and this isn’t a fairy tale. I can’t help but think he is gentle with them once he’s taken their lives away. I don’t think he gnaws on bones. I think he is the kid who grew way too fast, and those in charge of raising him have no idea what he’s capable of doing from day to day. He breaks a bed. He gets a new bed. He rips a shirt. He gets a new shirt. He gets America. He plays with America. He spins us on his fingertips. We have no idea what happens next.