Wednesday, December 21, 2016


The gentle hardware we once
used, against our temperate
Winter, fails now to defend
against a savagery absorbed
with our destruction immed-
iately. His flatulent pride
is a lunge against our qui-
et habits of learning, hab-
itats scattered with just a
few thousand printed pages,
due for critical recital in
a calm he can not tolerate.

Who will miss the lock, now
his invasion's so official,
against which ardour's leap
is only a reflex of what we
meet each other for, again?

    How many times, Tacitus?
    How often go we down the
    road so paved by tenors,
    laughing at the thought:

    Plunder, slaughter, dis-
    possession:  these they
    misname government; they
    create a wilderness and
    call it peace.

Edmund Keeley
A Wilderness Called Peace
  A Novel
Simon & Schuster, 1985©

i, iii  m-ban

iv     Joel Andrew

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