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Category Archive for 'Poetry'

There are four The Scene Is Now. Co-founder, Minnesota-native and singer Chris Nelson is the greatest city poet since Kenneth Fearing; if that sounds a bold statement, just ask Chain Gang’s Ricky Luanda, who knows. Co-founder, keyboardist and Peter Seaborg Award-winning historian Philip Dray is also from Minnesota; he doesn’t sing and very rarely solos. Guitarist […]

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According to the astrologer Evangeline Adams, America is born at 3:03 on the 4th of July, Gemini Rising. It is to be mercurial, restless, violent. It looks to the Philippines and calls gluttony the New Frontier. It looks to South America and intervenes in the internal affairs of its nations; piracy is termed “bringing about […]

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Look what Pussy’s brought in,” leers a Half-Breed with a braided Queue. “Brit, by the look of him,” cries a short, freckl’d seaman in whom Stature and Pugnacity enjoy an inverse relation. “– long way from, ain’t you old Gloak?” “Who does your Wigs, Coz?” “There there, my Lads, think of the Impression we must […]

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It’s Gettysburg Address Day! And earlier in the week Michael Kazin review Philip Dray’s There Is Power In A Union: The Epic Story of Labor in America for The Washington Post. Michael’s father Alfred was great admirer (mostly) of Edmund Wilson’s astoundng Patriotic Gore, and so am I, although I wish Wilson had written about Frederick […]

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As if we had not strained the voting and digestive calibre of American Democracy to the utmost for the last fifty years with the millions of ignorant foreigners, we have now infused a powerful percentage of blacks, with about as much intellect and calibre (in the mass) as so many baboons. But we stood the […]

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Caz Dolowicz don’t plant tater, and don’t plant cotton, and dem dat plants ‘em is soon forgotten.

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One of America’s greatest public historians, Philip Dray has been in some unusual places but none more unusual than this: seated in an orange dinghy just launched from the Bay Ridge shore and headed for… the wine dark sea? For Staten Island? “No, no, no” the oarsman, Brian Berger, assures me. “Fort Lafayette!” All I saw […]

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In winter the ashen stucco houses shaped like Camel cigarette-boxes squat before the Bensonhurst bay-mist. Bensonhurst, low, flat, rheumatic marshland, is a realtor’s reclamation project. Many of the streets which may be compared to the booming oil cities of the Oklahoma country seem to have sprung up over night. The houses are a makeshift stage-setting […]

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Ignorant of the ways of publicity and chance alike, I’m unsure how these things happen but HiLoBrow.com has just been named by Time magazine’s Best Blogs of the Year . I could make up some things but not that! We’ve been meaning to catch up with WWIB’s  recently elusive publisher, Brian Berger, who doesn’t answer the phone, […]

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Akhilleus, prince and greatest of the Akhains, be forebearing. They are badly hurt. All who were the best fighters are now lying among the ships with spear or arrow wounds. Diomêdès, Tydeus’ rugged son, was shot; Odysseus and Agamémnon, the great spearman, have spear wounds; Eurýpylos took an arrow shot deep in his thigh. Surgeons […]

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