speak not of her presence driven over the darkness of the deep from the black sand depths sullen roar from wind-vexed headlands that front the blows of the storm having sealed the time of years into the form of hours I wonder who are the hopeful people here and if I’m one of them back on the subway two express stops north painlessly reaching towards the absence of God in myself I feel shame when homeless people beg on the train as happens on almost every subway ride I’m confronted with my own ethical shortcomings a fundamental lack of responsive empathy I end up feeling bad for myself and almost angry at the people begging which is far worse than complete indifference I spend money on random Tinder dates I don’t even like but I won’t give a suffering person a dollar is that the logic of capitalism working inside me or simply my natural selfishness and callow-and-callousness I realize fascism arises from ordinary people like this even highly educated people as an anger or revulsion at the pitiful condition of the lowest caste of society because we are living in a caste society only the rungs or valences are invisible
