Veteran’s Day celebrates the November 11 Armistice, which ended World War I. Wilfred Owen was killed in battle a week before the Armistice, when he was 25. He had by then already written this, referring to the poem by Horace. DULCE ET DECORUM EST Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, … More Wilfred Owen

Today’s recommended post is Momo’s, on the background of Robert Gates. In honor of places devastated by people still connected with the U.S. government, and by several former U.S. governments as well, we need some poems. Salomón de la Selva was from León, Nicaragua, where I went last year. He wrote these poems in English, … More Tropical Town

I The missteps I have made in life, have caused me to meet certain people I would not have met otherwise. This is something I would not like to trade away. One of my students has had some life problems lately, and she is moving to where the wind does not blow so cold through … More Une belle fête

At the end of the wee hours… Beat it, I said to him, you cop, you lousy pig, beat it, I detest the flunkies of order and the cockchafers of hope. Beat it, evil grigri, you bedbug of a petty monk. Then I turned toward paradises lost for him and his kin, calmer than the … More Va-t’en mauvais gris-gris

I have been working all weekend. When I work, I get headaches, because for the last fifteen years I have been unable to work without also hearing in my mind my father’s voice, speaking in loud tones to me about how I should work. If I am to work at all, I must work through … More Loud Voice

Fortified by having discovered late last week that my honors thesis student is doing as well as a good graduate student, and by having attended one of those lovely, sumptuous, intellectual parties Friday evening, which in everyone’s fantasies professors fairly live at, but which in reality take place only rarely, I have spent the entire … More On Feeling Demented

Here is yesterday’s poem, in English. It is a mysterious text alluding to a ceremony in which a poisonous snake is killed, ostensibly with an axe, but also by singing. Sensemayá (Chant to kill a snake) ¡Mayombe-bombe-mayombé! ¡Mayombe-bombe-mayombé! ¡Mayombe-bombe-mayombé! The snake has eyes of glass; The snake coils on a stick; With his eyes of … More ¡Mayombe-bombe-mayombé!

This is a santería song, to kill a snake.  Listen to the drums, echoing up from the town squares and down from the mountains. Canto para matar una culebra. ¡Mayombe—bombe—mayombé! ¡Mayombe—bombe—mayombé! ¡Mayombe—bombe—mayombé! La culebra tiene los ojos de vidrio; la culebra viene y se enreda en un palo; con sus ojos de vidrio, en un … More Sensemayá

My youngest brother was born after my aunt, who paid for the rest of us to go to college, died. And we do not have the savings she had, and he worked his way through college, here. First, he waited on tables. Then he moved up to installing DirecTV. At that time circumstances dictated that … More T-Frère

One of the things I liked about living in the great state of Illinois was that not just one, but several radio stations played rhythm and blues 24/7. I would drive along maple-lined streets, past tidy houses with wraparound porches, and out through the regular lines of industrialized cornfields. The view was one thing, the … More Leaving Union Station