What I hadn't realised, until I came across it recently, was that this terrible event also occasioned a strange, haunting poem by Donald Justice. Did ever the humble pronoun 'it' carry such weight and moment?
The Assassination
It begins again, the nocturnal pulse. It courses through the cables laid for it. It mounts to the chandeliers and beats there, hotly. We are too close. Too late, we would move back. We are involved with the surge. Now it bursts. Now it has been announced. Now it is being soaked up by newspapers. Now it is running through the streets. The crowd has it. The woman selling carnations And the man in the straw hat stand with it in their shoes. Here is the red marquee it sheltered under. Here is the ballroom, here The sadly various orchestra led By a single gesture. My arms open. It enters. Look, we are dancing. (June 5, 1968)
Interesting the way he plays with tenses and perspectives. Not sure about "stand with it in their shoes". Something to do with dancing?
ReplyDeleteI think the suggestion there is of blood flowing through the streets, but the 'meaning' is elusive - I read that this one was written at a time when Justice was experimenting with 'chance' methods, taking lines and words form elsewhere, mixing them up and seeing what came of it - something akin to Burroughs's 'cut-ups' (but with happier results)...
ReplyDeleteVery interesting. Excellent Alistair Cooke piece. He was a protégé of Mencken I believe.
ReplyDeleteYes - very much a Mencken disciple.
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