US Drone Strike Killed 10-Year-Old Boy In Yemen

Dispatches from the Underclass

A 10-year-old Yemeni boy named Abdulaziz was killed on June 10, reportsMcClatchy. And it was the U.S. government that killed him.

Perhaps he should have known better than to be the younger brother of  al Qaeda chief Saleh Hassan Huraydan, the target of the drone strike. At least that’s what President Obama’s former press secretary turned MSNBC contributer, Robert Gibbs, might say considering his justification for the U.S. drone strike that killed 16-year-old American Abdulrahman Al-Awlaki two weeks after his father, Anwar, was killed in a separate strike.

Though Obama has not commented on the death of Abdulaziz, I imagine he would chalk this up to the unintended consequence of war, just another tragic casualty. And most Americans would probably agree.

Still, I don’t understand how dead civilians, particularly dead children, quality as war casualties when the people we target aren’t actually involved in any sort of battle at the time of…

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In Suicide Note, Iraq War Veteran Says He Was Forced to Participate In War Crimes

Dispatches from the Underclass

On June 10, 2013, 30-year-old Iraq War veteran Daniel Somers killed himself after writing a powerful letter to his family explaining his reasons for doing so.

“My mind is a wasteland filled with visions of incredible horror, unceasing depression, and crippling anxiety, even with all of the medications the doctors dare give,” reads the letter, which Somers’ family allowed Gawker to publish. Somers went on to reveal the source of his pain:

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why choose this (ranty and rough)

why choose this?  

why choose this?

24-hour electricity.  why choose


24-hour electricity

over life?


why choose this? why choose this?

why choose

malls?  why choose



over life.


24-hour malls 

over life.  why choose this? 

why choose this?  24-hour electricity 

in 24-hour malls

over life.  why choose this?

why choose this?  why choose this?


why choose this

war?  war over life. 

why choose this?  why choose 



over life?


24-hours news, war

over life.  why choose 24-hour news

over life?  why choose 



over life


24-hour electricity 

drones over life.  why 

choose this?  why choose this? 

what grows #2

for william carlos williams:

meet me on the banks, a river between us
               walk with me down-
stream, apologies over rapids
take my hand over this screaming

river, blue and jagged
               watch stones fly down-

river, blessed but sure to land in eddies that crush
from crushed stone the river gives sand
slows, heavy with mud.  

let go of my hand,
the river widens in the hush.
take this

river as my apology.
take this cold mud, this corrosive sand.  
              watch it!

and imagine the delta.  
what grows from silt?
take stock of things

grown from our ashes .


what grows #1

for wb yeats:

meet me on opposite banks, a river between us
walk with me downstream, apologies over rapids
take my hand across this screaming river, jagged
and blue, watch stones fly downriver, blessed
but sure to land in eddies that crush
from crushed stone the river gives sand
and slows, heavy with mud.  let go of my hand
as the river widens and in the hush
take this river as my apology, and take
this cold mud, this corrosive sand.  watch it
and imagine the delta.  what grows from silt?
take stock of  the things grown from our decay  

nine lines of spring (revision of a zuihitsu)

scaffolding comes down, disassembled by migrants. the light is clear
but spring hasn’t come.  two window-washers in the shadows between brick buildings.  below,
an orange stepladder hides behind a few dirty window panes.  
          clouds edge blue skies.   

first day of spring.  the sky rushes ahead: blue to midnight in three heartbeats. I see the 30% moon,
          then a planet.  

first day of spring. a feeling on the edges, when the sky is that blue
and brick is this red.  after a long winter,
          the feeling when light is tonic.

locust series, 6/6


locusts fill
with robin song
and burst white 


in june, locusts 
dress in white
honeyed scent mixes
with birdsong 


surrounded by black hills
of clouds, robins sing
ivory flowers


an ancient glacier of clouds
scrapes the sky and the locust
fills with white music, flowers, robins

june second, graduation week

pressure drop, ozone

smell, a breeze

then the wind. soon

tires unzip

from wetted asphalt.  i watch as a cigarette arcs, held underhand,

trails orange. a first volley. a burst

of rain. flash of electricity, thunder

farther away. storm passing?

air is sucked through the apartment, passes dying

lilacs, rushing into the street to join the storm.   


         still things,

air. low growl of thunder. another pressure drop.  

still, no rain. interstitial.  

and then a crash.  steel or concrete into steel or concrete.  lots of new sounds

for me in east harlem.  a car drives off. still,

no rain.  a rat makes someone scream.  it might be a bad summer, a hot summer.  for the last

two weeks a rat makes someone scream.  90 degrees slipped into 80 degrees. still, but



branches blow, leaves are lit from below and

yellow.  then thunder, a bike chain.  

thunder again.  rain.  splash on leaves now dripping

yellow.  small burst of thunder


I think the rain sweetens the air.softens

the air i know.  another scream.  short, high pitched.  that’s the rat

scream.  the rain drops coalesce

into a tone. the air cools,

cleans. gutters start to drip with water.  i imagine the torrents.  white with the rage

of gravity.  cold rain water gathers and splashes concrete.  leaves

soak and drip. join the torrent,

the chorus.  


i always remember

summer thunderstorms, cold

rainwater.  a purifying ritual

even as a child. one more

clap, rain speeds up.  east

harlem disappears

into an older din.  

B Manning

Important website

Important website

look at what happens after January 2009.