FIGHT
by Carl Sanburg
RED drips from my chin where I have been eating.
Not all the blood, nowhere near all, is wiped off my mouth.
Clots of red mess my hair
And the tiger, the buffalo, know how.
I was a killer.
Yes, I am a killer.
I come from killing.
I go to more.
I drive red joy ahead of me from killing.
Red gluts and red hungers run in the smears and juices of my inside bones:
The child cries for a mother and I cry for war.
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Even in our sleep pain that cannot forget Falls drop by drop upon the heart Until in our own despair Against our will Comes wisdom Through the awful grace of God. Escalus
About Me
- Mr. Boston
- I am now a third year teacher. Before I moved to Chicago I worked in juvenile rehabilitation schools, a suburban school, and was a volunteer teacher for a summer in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. I went to Michigan State University. My students think I look like Mr Boston. This really pisses me off.
What we do for ourselves dies with us.
What we do for others and the world remains and is eternal.
Albert Pine
What we do for others and the world remains and is eternal.
Albert Pine