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#ezra
Let us deride the smugness of “The Times”: GUFFAW ! So much the gagged reviewers, It will pay them when the worms are wriggling in their vitals ; These were they who objected to newness, HERE are their TOMB STONES. They supported the gag and the ring : A little black BOX contains them. SO shall you be also, You slut-bellied obstructionist, You sworn foe to free speech and good letters, You fungus, you continuous gangrene. Come, let us on with the new deal, Let us be done with Jews and Jobbery, Let us SPIT upon those who fawn on the JEWS for their money, Let us out to the pastures. PERHAPS I will die at thirty, Perhaps you will have the pleasure of defiling my pauper’s grave, I wish you JOY, I proffer you ALL my assistance. It has been your HABIT for long to do away with true poets, You either drive them mad, or else you blink at their suicides, Or else you condone their drugs, and talk of insanity and genius, BUT I will not go mad to please you. I will not FLATTER you with an early death. OH, NO ! I will stick it out, I will feel your hates wriggling about my feet, And I will laugh at you and mock you, And I will offer you consolations in irony, O fools, detesters of Beauty. I have seen many who go about with supplications, Afraid to say how they hate you. HERE is the taste of my BOOT, CARESS it, lick off the BLACKING.
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Nov 15, 2025
Nov 15, 2025 at 7:46 PM UTC
SALUTATION THE THIRD. By Ezra Pound
On this day, which seems a portal to the rest of life, A pair of Rose breasted Grosbeaks come to the feeder Under powerful white beaks, their throats are brilliant red.   And Pound’s words: “What thou lov’st well” come to mind. “What thou lov’st well” Words I recited to Janey when her husband died. To myself when I lost my house, And that job, thirty years ago. When mother’s white hair signaled her mortality Now, this beautiful bird And coffee And taking breaths An oriole in the apple tree Picking nectar out of May blossoms... “What thou lovest well remains, the rest is dross What thou lov’st well shall not be reft from thee What thou lov’st well is thy true heritage”
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May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 1:28 PM UTC
Ezra Pound and the Grosbeak
...And kirchéglise(Notre) dame o u r l a d y m y l a d y encyl-able, Pope or Pope or popedeux and vindicate the waysteland My caska is openclosed! (pews is pause is putride and prodigious) Et tout-en commun?Gizerly pharaoh HA lf gone. Source-error of Oz Ymandias and dust, and dustinction god pull downwhich? or fleurs-de-litigation. Vini, vu/gesehen, conquered/konkeri? And tot And mort and trunks gefallen. Fantast-asy—I flail. pause S e m p i ternam.
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Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 10:21 PM UTC
Our lady
it's no doubt that we are truly one when we love each other with our bodies but even when we love by ourselves we never split
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Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 1:33 AM UTC
together
I'm still on this ride You've gotten off a long time ago Someone took your place and they're actually enjoying this attraction with me
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Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 12:44 PM UTC
love's rollercoaster pt. 2
he seemed like he wanted to stay on this ride he made it an experiment he didn't like rollercoasters
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Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 1:10 PM UTC
love's rollercoaster pt. 3
the soldier in charge with raising the flag felt ashamed because he couldn’t get it up. he stayed up the whole night crying, packing all his Ezras and his Allens, ironing his shirts and wrapping in old newspapers the photos of him and his grandfather. the stench of fire crackers and hot dogs was still strong on his clothes and he couldn’t touch the top of his mouth with his tongue. the pain was edgy and the bull’s eye couldn’t take it anymore; he knew he flagged life once again.
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Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 4:37 AM UTC
#flagpost