The Orris: A Cultural Journal

Looking at You, Twenty-Four Years On

We remember imperfectly, thank God;

you across to me; me across to you.

Still some measure of sympathy, I guess:

parity, we realized early on,

is one sure recipe for disaster —

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April 24, 2012 · 1 Comment

Old, Old Seamus

was thirty-five and looking for death in

every phrase; would meet you half-way if you thought you couldn’t get at it. He knew what you were saying. He’d find it. Was every month now giving me another Mishima novel

March 27, 2012

A Retiring

With no way to get up there anymore

without hitching a ride with the old enemy;

disgraceful maybe, or just over-trusting.

The world stage changes ever faster these days.

March 16, 2012

Outgoing President George W. Bush at the Inaugural Speech of Incoming President Barack Obama

Man I’m never as free as when I’m there

racin’ that truck over the Crawford dirt,

’bout 60, 70, feels like 90 —

March 6, 2012 · 1 Comment

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