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geron stops listening
At a lecture by a young woman
And no thanks for this power of vision
Granted as my eyes fail,
To see with pitiless concision
Whole lives unfurl, or furl --
Which grief is greater?
Seeing that smooth fresh face suddenly later
Sag, seam, and pale?
Or in this hag nearby glimpsing the girl?
day thoughts, night thoughts
Politics is like the air: necessary to life, insuffi cient to live on.
That was a long time back
When Solon, spending his days
On the unruly ways
Of your ordinary Greek
And the rank sons-of-bitches
Both poverty and riches
Can make and make attack,
Rose to speak.
What Solon had to say,
As he already knew,
The many and the few
Alike would hate to hear.
They heard him out at length