A Red Line

Media, Plus ça change motherfuckers, Poetry, War and Politics

“Obviously I think that’s a red line for everybody here: no boots on the ground,” Mr. Kerry said.

War’s past and bootworn decades wore them out.
The Romans, though, wore socks and sandals and
conquered most of Europe, snow to sand
and sea to alp. Roads and footwear rout
inferior engineering. When a trout
flashes in a stream, you pick a lure and stand
braced against the cold water, right hand
to cast, left at your hip-waders; you sprout
like a sapling when the rain has swelled the creek.
“Those to whom evil is done / Do evil in
return.” History is a fish going to spawn
against the current, then it dies, weak
with reproduction, but new fish begin
where the last died for the bears. And on and on.

4 thoughts on “A Red Line

  1. I applaud your courage in taking the risk with “spawn” and “on”, considering that “on and on” inescapably carries with it a connotation of tedium, and feelings of boredom often present as a “yawn”, an observation which an unfriendly critic might put to good use.

    So why not strike first, and replace “And on and on” with “The Sibyl yawns”?

    The objective correlative here is, of course, Eliot’s epigraph to TWL:

    1. PS – I meant to say also that this is one of your stronger efforts – almost Yeatsian in its attempt to deal with the cyclic span of history and its attendant horrors

  2. “Hi, I’m Margaret Juntwait. -And I’m Rudy Giuliani. -On this week’s Met Opera Broadcast, we listen to Greengrass’s masterpiece, United 93.” twitter doesn’t really allow for those “I’m………………………………………………………………………………………………..
    Robert Smeagol” pauses, does it?

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