Tonight I will only give you flowers and baby, baby and flowers. Trust me on this.

Also a poem: Ross Gay, Sorrow Is Not My Name” No matter the pull toward brink. No matter the florid, deep sleep awaits. There is a time for everything. Look, just this morning a vulture nodded his red, grizzled head at me, and I looked at him, admiring the sickle of his beak. 1/4

Then the wind kicked up, and, after arranging that good suit of feathers he up and took off. Just like that. And to boot, there are, on this planet alone, something like 2 million naturally occurring sweet things, some with names so generous as to kick the steel from my knees 2/4

agave, persimmon, stick ball, the purple okra I bought for two bucks at the market. Think of that. The long night, the skeleton in the mirror, the man behind me on the bus taking notes, yeah, yeah. 3/4

But look; my niece is running through a field calling my name. My neighbor sings like an angel and at the end of my block is a basketball court. I remember. My color's green. I'm spring. 4/4

“The failure has echoes of the period leading up to 9/11: Warnings were sounded, including at the highest levels of government, but the president was deaf to them until the enemy had already struck.”

Since there is no media police force and it is weirdly compelling, while this makes all fair points, I suspect the journali is gonna let the Cuomi off the hook: The Cuomo brothers put on quite a show. Should the journalism-ethics police shut it down?

A glamorous and fascinating life and totally preventable death via @NYTimes 

Oh I tweeted it already and sent it to her

Closing borders. Yeah about that via @NYTimes