To the 43rd President
|From the New Yorker, late 2004?|
What I see are tactical endurance,But it's where Cole ends up that interests me most, this open question about why it is we hate:
rhetoric divorced from practice and aversion
squatting on a shaky platform.
Nature seems complacentCole doesn't provide an answer, but neither does he condemn hate. Hate, he seems to suggest, is bound up in the fear of something that exists beyond our control, that "unbroken animal/ circling in the dark wood."
as hate rains down on us in swoops.
Why does God make man to feel it?