| Fireworks Ernest Knoll People in a field with light and noise Startle the dark, and savage boys Scrabble among tall legs for rocket sticks. Showers of the pyrotechnics Wink in smoke, trailing a storm Above the trees, against the warm Moon. Burnt powder and burnt hay. A railroad flare makes hellish day On scattered faces. Sparklers in the gloom, Like candles in an attic room, Wander in ghostly conclave. It�s the Fourth. Aurora borealis from the north Moves down above the field and thunders Finale. The sky shuts up those fiery wonders, And heals without a sign of scars. The old and slow explosion of the stars. |
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| The Battle Louis Simpson Helmet and rifle, pack and overcoat Marched through a forest. Somewhere up ahead Guns thudded. Like the circle of a throat The night on every side was turning red. They halted and they dug. They sank like moles Into the clammy earth between the trees. And soon the sentries, standing in their holes, Felt the first snow. Their feet began to freeze. At dawn the first shell landed with a crack. Then shells and bullets swept the icy woods. This lasted many days. The snow was black. The corpses stiffened in their scarlet hoods. Most clearly of that battle I remember The tiredness in eyes, how hands looked thin Around a cigarette, and the bright ember Would pulse with all the life there was within |
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| Two Friends David Ignatow I have something to tell you. I�m listening. I�m dying. I�m sorry to hear that. I�m growing old. It�s terrible. It is, I thought you should know. Of course and I�m sorry. Keep in touch. I will and you too. And let me know what�s new. Certainly, though it can�t be much. And stay well. And you too. And go slow. And you too. |
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