Winter 1997 • Vol. XIX No. 1 PoetryJanuary 1, 1997 |

Imagining Napalm: Harvard Square Summer (1967)

Neither the sky nor the succulent earth But the sticky sizzle of asphalt, Honking fumes, The ratcheting clack of redoubtable trolleys, Empty wine jugs set on walls, car roofs, statues, The vast declarative sea of ambling youths. Revolution was inspired frustration Or the playacting of fashion. Ardor, a bare yet grandiloquent stage. The harridan Irish landlady Her right eye buried by a stroke Screamed through the locked door, "Who's in there with you? Your whore?" The workers appeared each morning in their    awkward uniforms To stand behind counters and manage machines. When handed a leaflet, a Negro woman Smiled at it and said sweetly, "Honey, you don't know shit. A professor with lacquered gray hair Admitted on one, fresh, after-the-rain morning That she loved Immanuel Kant. Someone belched pacifically as she    smiled at herself, Serene in her dutiful clarity. Imagining napalm while lacing up One's sneakers, removing a Band-Aid, Noticing

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The Great Depression

By Baron Wormser

Neither the sky nor the succulent earth But the sticky sizzle of asphalt, Honking fumes, The ratcheting clack of redoubtable trolleys, Empty wine jugs set on walls, car roofs, statues, […]

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