impression of the worst of Pound's Cantos

strength, you,
strength of an ox.

arrangements at
moonset, under
the pine tree.

keep it down when
first light comes.

he tells us “I’m
tired of these gnats
buzzing around, blood-
suckers, returning no
dividend. the day
is dawning, my
children, when
Il Duce returns
and then he’ll know
I was right. niente
usura per noi.”

but silence lavishes
its balm on the dead.

we are left to pay
our bills by computer.

usury in the land,
usury is a word no
one living understands.

bury it in Italy, there’s
still life outside conspiracies.

11/6/06