The wasp is still in the columbine's shadow, the one black among differing greys; shelved by time now, and available only through the abstract haze of fathers and mothers talking--- the dour song 5 of the 60s gives them something to raise voices over. "If I knew that man's mind, I'd know the country." A few well-soldered speeches carry through, the New England intonation, a fretted film.... He has the stiff, sweet elegance of dust, 10 wafting through the White House's castled banquets in his thin-waisted tux. Over the open, boiling spaghetti pot you stand and sing and talk all morning. The waters lash; you speak. Of the dead: "We'll own their laundry soon enough."
From the collection "Red Bank"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.