As they joylessly wait for reassignment,
they dangle their feet into the blue abyss at the brink
of heaven like boys on a wall bumping their sneakers
on the bricks below.
Old warriors rarely
say anything about
people they killed or
horrors they saw
The cruelty in this poem is overwhelming – as Sassoon intended. So opposed was he to jingoistic propaganda, he deliberately slashed very tender imagery with the sharpest irony.
what he wants to do
sounds better than
what I want to do
we sit in the car
until the song is over
The soul is hungry in spring, and there is only the crisp, silent air to feed it.
A stillness which is very nearly mineral
Keeps insisting upon the essential
Loneliness with which this light is filled.
Speaking of marvels, I am alive
together with you, when I might have been
alive with anyone under the sun
My God! The man with long white hair
waiting for an elevator on the thirteenth floor
is Edgar Winter, blear-eyed from a night
spent raising the roof at the Fillmore East.