Trump’s missed opportunity

The spiritual-prescient face, the always welcome common benevolent face
Riotous laughing bacchanals filld with joy!
Upper-arm, armpit, elbow-socket, lower-arm, arm-sinews, arm-bones
My land is to me
Proud and passionate citymettlesome, mad, extravagant city!
Ah you foes that in conflict have overcome me
SANDS AT SEVENTY
I chant this chant of my silent soul in the name of all dead soldiers
Starting from fish-shape Paumanok where I was born
Ended the stately rhythmus of Una and Oriana, ended the quest of the

Done, but that will never be,
O setting sun! though the time has come
Parting trackd by arriving, perpetual payment of perpetual loan
Pyrotechny, letting off colord fireworks at night, fancy figures and jets;
Of the envelopment of all by them, and the effusion of all from them
Thou Union holding all, fusing, absorbing, tolerating all
Never again return
I go to all the places one after another, and then row back to the shore
To Thee Old Cause
You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light and of every

Recommended for you

This entry was posted in Headline poems and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

*

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>

Spam protection by WP Captcha-Free