The Gold Codes are the launch codes the president must keep on his person to initiate a nuclear strike.
Nicknamed “the biscuit,” there’s something domestic about it, as though nuclear attack were akin to pressing the soft flesh of a doughboy, the biscuits rising in the oven like mushroom clouds, mother singing.
Have you seen what happens to all the ships in the nearby ocean?
An ascot can be used to tie the hands of a body around an overturned boat, but in this case, there would be no point.
The idea of the weapon is that you would never use it, but that you must have one as a threat.
Essentially, we are talking about an expanding fireball.
“I wish that I could show you, / when you are lonely or in darkness, / the astonishing light of your own being,” ends a poem by Hafiz.
The poem begins with a disclosure from the sun, insisting it is itself a shadow, whose light is cast by some other “Infinite Incandescence.”
Given this repetitive structure by one translator, “I wish I could show you / The Infinite Incandescence / that has cast my brilliant image! / I wish I could show you, / when you are lonely or in darkness, / the astonishing Light / of your own Being,” the infinite incandescence could be the self, the human light that casts the sun as brilliant.
I wish I could tell you, sun, when you are lonely or in darkness, you are not a shadow: Everything you touch turns to shadow.