7.19.2026 – everybody voices

everybody voices
profound, resigned hopelessness
white fog blanketing

Adapted from the article, ‘Profound, resigned hopelessness’: people across US and Canada share effects of wildfire smoke, sub headed … Air quality in North America has plummeted, affecting the health of millions of people across the continent by Marina Dunbar in the Guardian on Sunday, July 19, 2026, where Ms. Dunbar writes:

South of the Canadian border, residents who made even brief trips outside described air conditions as noxious. Chicago recorded the world’s worst air quality on Thursday evening, according to IQAir’s global rankings, with Detroit and Minneapolis also ranking among the most polluted cities.

In Skokie, Illinois, 26-year-old student Zeff said the smoke carried a pungent chemical smell.

“The air stinks of burnt plastic, like it’s been poisoned,” he said. “It’s impossible to take a deep breath without my nose and throat burning.”

He said the ominous haze has settled over neighborhoods throughout the day.

“There’s a mirage hanging on the treetops, white fog blanketing everything in the distance,” he said. “Everybody I speak to voices a profound, resigned hopelessness.”

An analogy for today?

Life imitates life?

It IS almost perfect isn’t it?

There’s a mirage hanging on the treetops.

A white fog blanketing everything in the distance.

Everybody voices a profound, resigned hopelessness.

7.18.2026 – there seems to be a

there seems to be a
pattern of charges being
filed without merit

From the New York Times article, They Were Charged With Assaulting ICE Agents. The Cases Are Crumbling by Mike McIntire, Danny Hakim, Alexandra Berzon, Jazmine Ulloa and Lauren McCarthy.

The article is sub headed: The Trump administration has lost or abandoned hundreds of criminal cases against protesters and immigrants, a Times investigation found.

The article opens with: The New York Times found that the Trump administration has filed assault charges against more than 550 people who were caught in its immigration dragnet — far more than previously known. Of the more than 400 cases resolved so far, nearly half have unraveled: Juries acquitted defendants, judges threw out charges, or prosecutors withdrew them.

Today’s haiku is based on the passage: “There seems to be a pattern of charges being filed without any merit,” said Jimmy L. Arce, a former federal prosecutor in Chicago who served on a commission that investigated immigration raids in the city last year. He added that some defendants were “having their speech criminalized by the U.S. attorney’s office.”

And the article states:

In the half of assault cases that ended in the government’s favor, almost all were guilty pleas. The Times’s analysis of the 213 cases that the government has lost or abandoned found that:

In dozens of cases, court records and videos show that federal agents were the first to get physical — including shoving, tackling or pepper-spraying defendants. Many defendants successfully argued that the assaults they were accused of were actually acts of self-defense.

Judges repeatedly chastised prosecutors and immigration agents for misconduct including distorting facts and withholding evidence. Two judges found that agents purposely destroyed evidence, including ordering a defendant to delete cellphone photos.

Officers charged more than two dozen people who were filming or following agents, often while honking car horns, blowing whistles or shouting warnings like, “La migra is coming!” There was no allegation of physical contact with agents.

In more than 100 cases, prosecutors did not claim that any agents were injured. In at least seven other cases, officers’ injuries were caused by their or their colleagues’ actions. For example, a judge last fall dismissed assault charges against an immigrant, ruling that the agent involved had been cut by shards of glass from a car window he himself had smashed.

Sixty-five times, prosecutors abandoned or downgraded charges before hitting a deadline to present evidence to a grand jury or judge. Former prosecutors said that this pattern of rapid retreat was unusual and signaled that the cases should never have been brought.

The article also states: The Trump administration’s strategy hinges on a once-obscure statute, 18 U.S.C. 111, that makes it a federal crime to assault or forcibly impede a government officer. Punishments range from a fine to 20 years in prison.

For decades, prosecutors used the law sparingly. One exception was when the Biden administration invoked it to charge hundreds of people involved in the Jan. 6 riot at the U.S. Capitol. Prosecutors had a perfect record of winning convictions in those cases, until Mr. Trump returned to office and issued blanket pardons.

I am reminded of Martin Luther Kind’s speech in Memphis, the night before he was killed where he said:

 If I lived in China or even Russia, or any totalitarian country, maybe I could understand the denial of certain basic First Amendment privileges, because they hadn’t committed themselves to that over there.

But somewhere I read of the freedom of assembly.

Somewhere I read of the freedom of speech.

Somewhere I read of the freedom of the press.

Somewhere I read that the greatness of America is the right to protest for right.

Where is the love?

Where is the compassion?

For crying out loud, where is even the sense of humor.

I recently took my place in the line in a street side demonstration to hold up signs and flags in protest of the ICE actions nation wide.

The group stretched out along over a mile of road and as cars went by we waved and called out and people in cars waved and cheered and honked their horns in support.

This one car came by windows open, music blaring and hands out the window.

But the fingers of the hands were raised in the middle finger we-are-number-one sign and the song blaring was rapper Vanilla Ice’s “ICE ICE BABY.”

We all looked at each other and broke out laughing and this one lady looked the line up and down and says, “well … it was pretty funny.”

Is there hope yet?

Looking up that quote of Dr. King’s I came across this from the same speech.

Dr. King said: I would turn to the Almighty, and say, “If you allow me to live just a few years in the second half of the twentieth century, I will be happy.”

Now that’s a strange statement to make, because the world is all messed up.

The nation is sick.

Trouble is in the land.

Confusion all around.

That’s a strange statement.

But I know, somehow, that only when it is dark enough, can you see the stars.

And I see God working in this period of the twentieth century in a away that men, in some strange way, are responding — something is happening in our world.

But I know, somehow, that only when it is dark enough, can you see the stars.

And I see God working in this period of the twentieth century in a away that men, in some strange way, are responding — something is happening in our world.

One last time.

Only when it is dark enough, can you see the stars.

7.17.2026 – squares circles contain

squares circles contain
rectangles precision in
counterpoint passion

Sunrise – July 17, 2026

In his book about baseball, Take Time for Paradise, Bart Giamatti or A. Bartlett Giamatti as he was known when he was Commissioner of Major League Baseball (also known as the father of actor Paul Giamatti), wrote:

How to characterize the structural principles grounding this game?

Squares containing circles containing rectangles; precision in counterpoint with passion; order compressing energy.

The potentially universal square, whose two sides are foul (actually fair) lines, partially contains the circle, whose radius is at least four hundred feet and whose perimeter is the circle of the fence from foul line to foul line, which contains the circle of the outer infield grass, which contains the square of the diamond, containing the circle of the pitcher’s mound and squares of the three bases.

The circle of the mound contains the rectangle of the pitcher’s slab and faces the circle of the home-plate area, which contains the rectangles of the batter’s boxes and the area for umpire and catcher.

At the center of this circle, and existing in eternal tension with the pitcher’s rectangle — seemingly the center of such power, of so many dimensions — is the source of the macro dimensions, the point of reference for all the medium and the larger geometric shapes, the only shape on the field that does not figure the eternal and universal outlines and meanings of square and circle.

We are at home plate, the center of all the universes, the omphalos, the navel of the world. It, too, plays around fours and threes, but altered, a shape unique.

It is my birthday today.

66 years old.

How to characterize the structural principles grounding life?

You might have it all figured out.

You might have it a plan all diagramed out of squares containing circles containing rectangles; precision in counterpoint with passion; order compressing energy.

Like the game of baseball, everything can be laid out.

Then the game starts.

You have this potentially universal square but onto it are 9 different players placed to make a mess of your plan.

Add to that 4 other people who are standing around waiting to decide what you do and what happens to is legal.

You stand at the plate.

You hold a bat.

And that person out standing on the circle of the mound that contains the rectangle of the pitcher’s slab and faces the circle of the home-plate area, throws a ball at you.

That bat you are holding is round.

The ball thrown at you is round.

And you try to hit it square.

As that sign on the wall in the back of the bar in the TV show Cheers said, This is a Square House. Please report any un-fairness to the proprietor.

I am here to tell you that after 66 years at the plate, holding that bat, taking my swings, there is nothing fair about any of it.

You stand at the plate and all you want to do is get home and everyone and everything is set up to stop, slow down, harass or change you plans to get their.

Squares containing circles containing rectangles; precision in counterpoint with passion; order compressing energy.

Squares containing circles containing rectangles.

Precision in counterpoint with passion.

Order compressing energy.

You buys your ticket, you goes up to bat, you takes your chance.

Day after day.

Week after week.

Month after month.

Year after year.

In the back of our mind someone is telling you …

It ain’t over until the fat lady sings.

7.16.2026 – death is stronger than

death is stronger than
all proud men, throws pair of dice
says: read ’em and weep

Death is stronger than all the governments because the governments are men and men die and then
death laughs: Now you see ’em, now you don’t.

Death is stronger than all proud men and so death snips proud men on the nose, throws a pair of
dice and says: Read ’em and weep.

Death sends a radiogram every day: When I want you I’ll drop in — and then one day he comes with a
master-key and lets himself in and says: We’ll go now.

Death is a nurse mother with big arms: ‘Twont hurt you at all; it’s your time now; you just need a
long sleep, child; what have you had anyhow better than sleep?

Death Snips Proud Men by Carl Sandberg as published in Smoke and Steel in The Complete Poems of Carl Sandburg (Harcourt, Brace: New York, 1970).

Worth repeating.

Death is stronger than all the governments because the governments are men and men die and then
death laughs: Now you see ’em, now you don’t.

Death is stronger than all proud men and so death snips proud men on the nose, throws a pair of
dice and says: Read ’em and weep.

Worth repeating, but who will listen?

Death sends a radiogram every day: When I want you I’ll drop in — and then one day he comes with a
master-key and lets himself in and says: We’ll go now.

7.15.2026 – the squall sweeps gray-winged

the squall sweeps gray-winged
sense summer anger passing
summer gentleness

Squall line coming in from the Atlantic Ocean, looking towards Tybee from Hilton Head Island

The squall sweeps gray-winged across the obliterated hills,
And the startled lake seems to run before it;
From the wood comes a clamor of leaves,
Tugging at the twigs,
Pouring from the branches,
And suddenly the birds are still.

Thunder crumples the sky,
Lightning tears at it.

And now the rain!
The rain — thudding — implacable —
The wind, reveling in the confusion of great pines!

And a silver sifting of light,
A coolness;
A sense of summer anger passing,
Of summer gentleness creeping nearer —
Penitent, tearful,
Forgiven!

Squall as published in A Canopic Jar by Leonora Speyer von Stosch (E.P. Dutton & company: New York, 1921).

According to Wikipedia, Leonora Speyer or Lady Speyer was an American poet and violinist. She was born in Washington, D.C., the daughter of Count Ferdinand von Stosch of Manze in Silesia, who fought for the Union in the American Civil War, and Julia Schayer, who was a writer.

However much money she had or the Speyer’s had or the von Stosch’s had, they had enough so that she had her portrait painted by John Singer Sargent.

Mr. Sargent made a lot of money painting portraits of people who had a lot of money.

It was Mr. Sargent who said that they hardest part of painting portraits of people who had a lot money was that he had to listen to those people talk while he painted.

As he put it, “Painting a portrait would be quite amusing if one were not forced to talk while working…. What a nuisance having to entertain the sitter and to look happy when one feels wretched.”