Vox Populi

Larry Levis | At the Grave of My Guardian Angel: St. Louis Cemetery, New Orleans

And without beauty, Bakunin will go on making his forlorn & unreliable little bombs in the cold, & Oswald will adjust   
The lenses on the scope of his rifle, the one
Friend he has carried with him all the way out of his childhood,
The silent wood of its stock as musical to him in its grain as any violin.