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Guest Larstrup

The Organ

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Posted

Jubilo

To Arthur Mizener


Hit mus be now de Kingdom comiri 
And de year of Jubilo . . . 

Tail-spinning from the shelves of sky 
See how it dips and tacks and tosses 
To cast a beam in the mind's eye: 
Who will count the gains and the losses 
On the Day of Jubilo? 

Public accountant with double entry 
Enter in red war's final cast 
In the black column the pacing sentry, 
Old women picking the hogs' mast 
For the Day of Jubilo 

Lean to the crowded air and hear, 
Eavesdropper, how it goes inside 
Your own deaf and roaring ear: 
Boys caress the machines they ride 
On the Day of Jubilo 

After the dry and sticking tongue 
After our incivility 
Who will inflate the poet's lung 
Gone flat of this indignity 
Till the Day of Jubilo? 

Scholar, no dog will have your day 
For all your capital's run out, 
Wry baby in wet disarray—
Scholar, prepare your meagre clout 
For the Day of Jubilo 

Under the slip and slide of day 
Think, at the end you'll never be 
Trapped in a fox-hole of decay 
Nor snip nor glide of history 
After the Day of Jubilo 

All our jubilant eyes are raised, 
Jubilo. Over the barbican 
On the great Day pure and dazed, 
Empty of heart the empty man 
Of the Day of Jubilo 

Then for the Day of Jubilo 
The patient bares his arm at dawn 
To suck the blood's transfusing glow 
And then when all the blood is gone 
(For the Day of Jubilo) 

Salt serum stays his arteries 
Sly tide threading the ribs of sand, 
Till his lost being dries, and cries 
For that unspeakable salt land 
Beyond the Day of Jubilo.

Posted
SONNETS AT CHRISTMAS 
(1934) 
 
Allen Tate


This is the day His hour of life draws near, 
Let me get ready from head to foot for it 
Most handily with eyes to pick the year 
For small feed to reward a feathered wit. 
Some men would see it an epiphany 
At ease, at food and drink, others at chase 
Yet I, stung lassitude, with ecstasy 
Unspent argue the season's difficult case 
So: Man, dull critter of enormous head, 
What would he look at in the coiling sky? 
But I must kneel again unto the Dead 
While Christmas bells of paper white and red, 
Figured with boys and girls spilt from a sled, 
Ring out the silence I am nourished by. 

II 

Ah, Christ, I love you rings to the wild sky 
And I must think a little of the past: 
When I was ten I told a stinking lie 
That got a black boy whipped; but now at last 
The going years, caught in an accurate glow, 
Reverse like balls englished upon green baize 
Let them return, let the round trumpets blow 
The ancient crackle of the Christ's deep gaze. 
Deafened and blind, with senses yet unfound, 
Am I, untutored to the after-wit 
Of knowledge, knowing a nightmare has no sound; 
Therefore with idle hands and head I sit 
In late December before the fire's daze 
Punished by crimes of which I would be quit.
Guest OhPlease
Posted

She looks like she’s on “ice”

 

Guest OhPlease
Posted

To put things into perspective Donald Trump is visiting Madison Square Garden tonight for a UFC rally.

 

Guest OhPlease
Posted

To put things into perspective Donald Trump is visiting Madison Square Garden tonight for a UFC rally.

 

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