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?
A Yankee Poet in Greenwich Village
Remembering William Butler Yeats:
June 13, 1865–January 28, 1939
Whitsuntide: Sacred Fire, Divine Gifts, & the Quest for the Holy Grail
The Most Dangerous Game: Capital Riddles in Western Culture
Interview with George Burdi: Man Against the Modern World
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