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

(C)

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