They just assemble in companionable groups under the willow
and watch the stream purl past.
The election of 1940 is the one in which FDR beat the pants off Wendell Wilkie.
I am not sure why, but there seems to me to be a quietly depressed affect
to this William Carlos Williams poem.
Election Day
Warm sun, quiet air
an old man sits
in the doorway of
a broken house---
boards for windows
plaster falling
from between the stones
and strokes the head
of a spotted dog
an old man sits
in the doorway of
a broken house---
boards for windows
plaster falling
from between the stones
and strokes the head
of a spotted dog
William Carlos Williams
from Selected Poems, 1940
I have just been listening to someone babble on about how we need to let
each individual U. S. state decide what forms of energy regulation are best for them.
Eventually, in despair, we just turned off the TV. We will know
most of the beginning of the worst in the morning, anyway.
most of the beginning of the worst in the morning, anyway.
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