Against the Current, No. 26, May/June 1990
-
The 1990s: A Socialist Agenda
— The Editors -
How the Pittston Miners Won
— Phill Kwik -
New Hope for Guatemala?
— Patti McSherry -
Introduction to the Nicaraguan Elections--And Afterwards
— The Editors -
The Elections--And Afterwards
— Dianne Feeley and David Finkel -
Roots of the FSLN's Defeat
— James Petras -
Rejoinder: Why the FSLN's Policies Failed
— Keith Griffin -
Childcare: Unfinished Agenda
— Dianne Feeley -
NYC: Koch Goes but the Crisis Stays
— Andy Pollack -
For D.C., The Worst of Times
— John Willoughby -
Untitled Poem (for Bird)
— Kim D. Hunter -
A Fight for Treaty Rights
— Zoltan Grossman -
Racism Over Three Decades
— Samuel Farber -
The Soviet Crisis Today
— Boris Kagarlitsky -
New Socialist Voices in the USSR
— Suzi Weissman interviews Boris Kagarlitsky - A Russian Socialist's Perspective
-
Economic Prospects for Paralysis
— Nigel Harris -
The Crisis in the Caucasus
— Suzi Weissman interview Ronald Suny -
KMU Working for Labor Unity
— David Finkel interviews Ernesto Arellano -
[Philippine] National Federation of Labor's Statement on China
— National Federation of Labor (Philippines) -
New Statement on Beijing Incident
— National Executive Committee, KMU -
South Africa: New Stage of Struggle
— Editors of the South African Labor Bulletin -
Random Shots: Them Perrier Blues
— R.F. Kampfer -
Politics and Popular Culture
— Annette T. Rubinstein -
The Unnatural Fate of the Forest
— Marsha Rummel
Kim D. Hunter
Imagine
That Charlie Parker had died Playing
in the city
of your choice
Before
You knew who he was
In reality
Would you have gone
Attended the pre-corpse
Of a funky funky stone cold junky
Could you have struck up a conversation between sets
What would you have said:
“Oh … uh … Bird, I think your wings are burning”
In this nation of images
Imagine
The city of your choice
Where the average child is nearly deaf
Where slum dwellers inject themselves
With perfume and fake gold
How could anyone know or care
That a human born with wings
In a storm of fire
Flew and blew heart away
While his wings burned
It seems a miracle that anyone cares
How he used that flame
In his
Brief
Def(t)
Spiral through the constellations
Oh yeah
He knew the route
His existentialist travel agent friends
Had put the consequences to him
Ripe and undeniable
And still and yet and even then
Would you have gone So far above the ground
With a plastic saxophone
Knowing
What kind of motherfuckers
Were waiting for you
To return
May-June 1990, ATC 26