The Blizzards of 500 MilesFor life and soup and a little lessThe Blizzards of 500 Miles2 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
The strong men...they keep coming on
One by one or by thousands
And sit half-smiling, half-sad;
Deep down are the cinders we came from.
A tall one I know at the end of a hallway broods in shadows and is watching
Doing what must be done
Because in the dusk
There is...something...here...men die for.
It's a song as hard as a riveter's hammer
Somebody loses whenever somebody wins
How many times can death come and pay back what we saw?
Ladders of dust and mud and our hair snarled
A slug of lead in the red valves
And a panorama of war performs itself.
In the red of winter dawns
Money is nothing now, even if I had it
The west is empty. All else is empty. No moon-talk at all now.
Nothing lovelier, nothing lovelier
In the fire music of wood singing to winter
Telling their stories over and over
And they talk at night in the storm:
"It's going to come out all right--do you know?"
Take 'em and beat 'em, hammer 'em, hear 'em laugh
Nothing like us ever was