The bell is tolling!
Crows swarm like flies on a carcass,
wings thumping the heavy air,
thump, thump, thud, thud,
the drum of death is sounding there!
Some will swear the coffin lid
will slip aside, and what’s inside,
decaying flesh, will rise, will rise!
And the grinning skull, the triumphant symbol,
the stench of death, the scent of rebirth.
But are we mad?
Mihai Eminescu: Romania’s Morning Star
“He Doesn’t Worry Too Much If Mediocre People Get Killed in Wars and Such” Tito Perdue’s The Smut Book & Cynosura
Jalal El-Kadali’s Oyster Mountain
If White Privileges Were Real
Remembering Rudyard Kipling (December 30, 1865-January 18, 1936)
The Plymouth 400 SymposiumRobert Frost’s “Directive”: A Quintessential Yankee Poem by New England’s Quintessential Yankee Poet
Heroic Road Songs
I Knew You When Your Eyes Were Blue