26 January 2010

Cobbling Fish




You never told me about Sacco and Vanzetti, Mother.
We are their champions, though they looked guilty,
at least we are more than any Jewish-Russian beatnik.
And Father, well, he always said it just takes a little
common sense, as if there were a collective answer that defined
the practicality of all action (nevermind those wild orchids).
La via vecchia, the old ways, laid beside me last night,
telling me of things to fear: “You always loved me.”
Non si sorprenda.



2 comments:

Brandon said...

So now I see have read some ramblings. What of remorse? ;)

Chris Donato said...

Ah, remorse has incarnated the ill-fated poetic endeavor from the beginning.

 
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