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In a Bleak Year-End Mood, the Poet Tips His Hat to a 16th Century Colleague
Thomas Nashe in leg irons A Litany for the Wheeling Year with apologies to Thomas Nashe Again a grim old year is turning.Again the fires of war are burning.Again the poor cough up their lives.Again rich men adorn their wives.The moon’s balsamic, a sleepy eye.We stare drunkenly up and sigh. Who’ll have mercy on us? Not the CEO of Goldman.Not the gangsters in the Forum.Not the grinning, bailed-out bankers.Not the pundits hyping rancor.The moon looks inward toward midnight.We stare drunkenly up and sigh. Who’ll be honest with us? Look at how our God-dreams kill us.Look at how our wills are will-less.Look at…Read More