A shithole is a shithole
by any other name.
Our minds are bright and wits full.
We will not play the game,
pretending not to mark
boatloads of refugees,
their faces savage, stark
and eager for freebies.
Norwaywards we look,
to lads and lasses fair,
where good folk pull their weight—
not to turds in a dry brook
where the gorilla stares.
Yes, we know love from hate.
15 January 2018
Remembering Aleister Crowley
(October 12, 1875–December 1, 1947)
Remembering Roy Campbell (October 2, 1901–April 22, 1957)
Remembering T. S. Eliot:
September 26, 1888–January 4, 1965
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