After the Avatar, 1945
A Sonnet for Savitri Devi on her 107th Birthday
Our holy sun shouldn’t shine anymore.
There is nothing left to grow beneath now.
All is gone, blasted, shot, burnt. All our pure
Beauty, our sure truths, lost. We endure. How
And why are beyond us, we simply live.
What else is there for us to do? We are
Not dead though all we love is dead. Forgive
Us for not rejoicing in the warm air,
For not embracing the light we once rose
To salute. It is too late for more dawns,
We do not care to see new days. Gallows
Dance before our eyes, while open graves yawn.
We half wish to hang and fall, to be done,
Buried . . . away from our traitorous sun.
Remembering William Butler Yeats:
June 13, 1865–January 28, 1939
Remembering Oswald Spengler (May 29, 1880–May 8, 1936)
Remembering Louis-Ferdinand Céline (May 27, 1894–July 1, 1961)
Valhalla, not Elysion: My Friendship with Savitri Devi
Remembering Richard Wagner
(May 22, 1813–February 13, 1883)
Remembering Julius Evola
(May 19, 1898–June 11, 1974)
Memelord Dalí Remembering Salvador Dalí (May 11, 1904–January 23, 1989)
Remembering Sam Francis (April 29, 1947–February 15, 2005)