Let us go to the station
to marvel at the marble
sprayed with graffiti.
Let us take a ghost train,
jump cargos to Chicago,
with shiny fin-tailed cars.
Let us forget the needles
on the spent floor, rent
the squatters never paid.
Let us wave to the girl,
blonde, grinning on her Schwinn,
in Wonder Bread Indiana.
Let us place our right hands
on our hearts: the smell of tar
will mock our pledge with drums,
with monkey taps and funk
greet us with wilted flowers.
21 July 2017
La Seconde Venue païenne de Yeats
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