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With Horace, Sitting on the Platform, Waiting for the Robert E. Lee

ISSUE:  Summer 2007

Seventy years, and what’s left?
Or better still, what’s gone before?
A couple of lines, a day or two out in the cold?
And all those books, those half-baked books,
sweet yeast for the yellow dust?

What say, Orazio? Like you, I’m sane and live at the edge of things,
Countryside flooded with light,
the chaos of future mornings just over the ridge, but not here yet.


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