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Kamarck, Edward (ed.) / Arts in society: the arts of activism
(1969)
Bly, Robert
Part VII: poems of vision and action: revolution by dissatisfaction, pp. 423-[424]
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Page 423
REVOLUTION BY DISSATISFACTION The rain makes blackish mist where Mozart stood. We are all of us rushing like dwarf antelopes in long streaming herds, or hair flying behind the skidding racer.... A room of retired bombers on a Pacific island the frozen ground scattered with chicken heads and the violet crystals left behind in the footprints of the Saviour.... Who are the people who live in these huts? Abandoned children left in foster homes, hearts beating desperately like ends of canvas, anguish, women turning away in tears. ... I see men whose arms have turned into axes, chopping at their ankles, blood spurting up . 423 The grocer gets tired of people, his feathers clog with oil, and he drowns in the river. There is something frightening in the small hair along the necks of men in churches: the grief of those shut out from the castle as night comes, and the countryside full of brutal knights on big kneed horses . . . A bitterness ascends from the Gulf, and fights its way up the Mississippi; the low of vanishing trains. Doors close inside the brain. Men fall into the arms of big-eyed women exhausted who play at night with dolls. Tiny bits of dust ignored in Gansevoort Street marks of ash on foreheads borne through subway cars everyone feels a grief when he sees the plane disappearing behind trees and the long expanses of landing strips alone in the night.
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