A Day for Elegies: “All of Our Lives Were Intertwined”

You go Googling for Edgar Lee Masters, and you never know where you’ll end up. This seemed about right for a day of reflection on war, sacrifice, loss, the persistence of memory and the neverending obligation of the living to pick up, keep on…and make Death work for that boat-token.

(And, yes, I fucked up my own headline quote. But at least I’m not going to claim I did it on-purpose as a wry slam at sloppy journalism.)

Posted by StrangeAppar8us on 05/31/10 at 11:51 AM • Permalink

Categories: Rumproast Related

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Strange, thank you. Beautifully, elegantly, expressed.

And you did not go for the obvious Masters poem, either, but since it is still a wonderful poem, and as I am no slouch when it comes to stating the obvious, here it is:

Knowlt Hoheimer

I WAS the first fruits of the battle of Missionary Ridge.
When I felt the bullet enter my heart
I wished I had staid at home and gone to jail
For stealing the hogs of Curl Trenary,
Instead of running away and joining the army,
Rather a thousand times the county jail
Than to lie under this marble figure with wings,
And this granite pedestal
Bearing the words ‘Pro Patria.’
What do they mean, anyway?

Edgar Lee Masters

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