The Carrion-Stinking Dog, Who Is Calf and Human and Wolf, Is Chasing and Eating Little Blood Things the Humans Scatter, and All Me Run Away, Over Smells, Toward the Sky

• Songs taken from last night's World of Echo (except for the Henry Wolff/Nancy Hemmings at very bottom - couldn't find the one Dave played but dug the one I found).
• Links while they're fresh.
• The Unknown Citizen.
• Drones and drama.
• There is not a foreign leader the NSA doesn't spy on.
• The UK Syria debate as seen by a rodent in Edinburgh.
• The issue isn't this particular episode of Middle East Clusterfuck, the issue is why every fucking actor in the Middle East keeps repeating the same fucking episode of Middle East Clusterfuck, the answer which we know. And will repeat forever, both the clusterfuck and rhetorical question and answer, amen.
• Formula.
• Steal this article.
• Tracking consumers: breaking kayfabe. One of my futile gestures of defiance: I'm buying less stuff.

• New Inquiry's Sunday links.
• Maggie's weekend links.
• { feuilleton }'s weekend links.
• Inner peace.
• 5th birthday bleggalgaze.
• An American blogging on the third day of an American holiday weekend is especially stupid, both the blogging and the blogger.
• UPDATE! A comment in email from Anonymous! May I simply just say what a comfort to find
  somebody that really knows what they're discussing on the net. You definitely understand how to bring a problem to light and make it important. More people should check this out and understand this side of your story. I can't believe you are not more popular since you most certainly have the gift. Feel free to surf to my blog post; Penis Advantage Review () 
• Summer Chronograph series.
• Baseball stadium epiphany.
• What Seamus Heaney taught him.
• New Robert Coover short story.
• Prunella's latest playlist.
• I confess I hadn't thought about Bikini Kill or Le Tigre in a while. Cascade next cascade.

THE COWS ON KILLING DAY

Les Murray

All me are standing on feed. The sky is shining.

All me have just been milked. Teats all tingling still   

from that dry toothless sucking by the chilly mouths   

that gasp loudly in in in, and never breathe out.

All me standing on feed, move the feed inside me.

One me smells of needing the bull, that heavy urgent me,   

the back-climber, who leaves me humped, straining, but light   

and peaceful again, with crystalline moving inside me.

Standing on wet rock, being milked, assuages the calf-sorrow in me.

Now the me who needs mounts on me, hopping, to signal the bull.

The tractor comes trotting in its grumble; the heifer human   

bounces on top of it, and cud comes with the tractor,   

big rolls of tight dry feed: lucerne, clovers, buttercup, grass,   

that’s been bitten but never swallowed, yet is cud.

She walks up over the tractor and down it comes, roll on roll   

and all me following, eating it, and dropping the good pats.

The heifer human smells of needing the bull human   

and is angry. All me look nervously at her

as she chases the dog me dream of horning dead: our enemy   

of the light loose tongue. Me’d jam him in his squeals.

Me, facing every way, spreading out over feed.

One me is still in the yard, the place skinned of feed.   

Me, old and sore-boned, little milk in that me now,   

licks at the wood. The oldest bull human is coming.

Me in the peed yard. A stick goes out from the human   

and cracks, like the whip. Me shivers and falls down

with the terrible, the blood of me, coming out behind an ear.   

Me, that other me, down and dreaming in the bare yard.

All me come running. It’s like the Hot Part of the sky   

that’s hard to look at, this that now happens behind wood   

in the raw yard. A shining leaf, like off the bitter gum tree   

is with the human. It works in the neck of me

and the terrible floods out, swamped and frothy. All me make the Roar,

some leaping stiff-kneed, trying to horn that worst horror.

The wolf-at-the-calves is the bull human. Horn the bull human!

But the dog and the heifer human drive away all me.

Looking back, the glistening leaf is still moving.

All of dry old me is crumpled, like the hills of feed,   

and a slick me like a huge calf is coming out of me.

The carrion-stinking dog, who is calf of human and wolf,   

is chasing and eating little blood things the humans scatter,   

and all me run away, over smells, toward the sky.