“Thee it
behooves to take another road…If from this savage place thou wouldst escape”
-Virgil,
Dante’s Inferno
“The
depravity of man is at once the most empirically verifiable reality but at the
same time the most intellectually resisted fact.”
-Malcolm
Muggeridge
“Men
deny Hell, but not, as yet, Hanwell.”
-G.K.
Chesterton
Pound to
Eliot
Are as
you and I
For you
have crafted longer
You have
crafted swifter
You have
felt the iron touch of term
The easy
flow of phrase
I am not
even skilled as Eliot, you may yet be greater
But
Pound was wrong, and he grew sinister
Cynical,
Satirical
His mind
was left at the mercy of “empirical”
Doubting
that which is good
Or if
anything is...
Pound became a fool
(And you may yet)
But
sincere
Walk the
streets
Disbelief
Sit at
lectures
Disbelief
Young
man (though I am younger)
You are
not Cohn
I fear
it more
You need
no Purple Land
I fear
it more
You did
not get it from Mencken
You did
not get it from books
Birthed
in your own
Spread
like cancer
Oh, has
it taken your blood?
Oh, will
Hanwell take your heart?
Il
Migglior Fabbro
See,
what hath thou wrought?
For God
hath not wrought it
Why do
thou rot?
And do
thou choose it?
Too
close
Too
close
Suicide
of thought
Circles
Circles
Circles
‘Circles,
what?’
‘What
Circles?’
Circles
Il
Migglior Fabbro
Will you
be resurrected?
What
beauty would bloom
If yet
you would die
That you
would be
Have the
crying masses muted glory?
Ichabod
is dead.
Never
shall that word see fruition in the body
Joy has
come
The
glory rests on us,
But it
does not depend
It will
not end
I know
not what to do with the masses
Or the
raging of classes
I know not
what to do with suicides, homicides
Abortions,
starvation
But Joy
has come
With it
is compassion
…without
it only obligation
And
despite the poets
Men do
little for duty
What
have you done?
Love
wins?
Nay,
Love won.
It shall
not be mutilated
Not by
cheap wine
Un-intoxicating
and sincere
Sincere!
Do not
trust sincerity
It does
not value justice
It does
not care for truth.
And
should you fatally ask
“What is
truth?”
(Why
does sincerity on its own always end in ambiguity?)
I will
point to him
You must
face alone
The
God-Man
Do not
be Uncle Andrew
Do not
choose the roar
The song
is sweeter
I dare
say, more true
For all
Lions roar
Only One
sings
Circles
‘Circles?’
Paralyzed
by Circles
You know
the rut you walk
‘Circles?’
‘Circles.’
Il
Migglior Fabbro
Better
Craftsmen
I cannot
make you craft again
Nor put
your “new” craft to mend
New
Ideas-Old Heresies
Chaff to
be burned
Call
now, on the Spirit then
For you
cannot craft alone
I have
not crafted alone
Il
Migglior Fabbro
Better
Craftsmen
You
cannot make you craft again
Nor try “new”
crafting
It must
go in the garbage bin
Il
Migglior Fabbro
Better
Craftsmen
My
friend
