storeeze

“The great question is: How can we win America's peace?”—Richard Nixon, Address to the Nation on the War (November 3, 1969) J. R. and I hopped on the world stage when we walked down the steps of a Flying Tiger 707 at Cam Ranh Bay, a humongous seaside base, 180 miles NE of Saigon. No flowers or open arms, just “You are now in the Republic of Viet Nam.” Commies weren't coming for us, we were coming for them. Neither poets nor conquerors, we were gonna make a statement, even a bad one. Funny people, strange smells, nothing I could have invented. The weather was nice. A jeep drove us to a two-story barracks. We shared a blank room on a floor with fifty other guys, picked out beds from scattered empties, and lived out of duffel bags. Each morning after chow, the guys in the barracks lined up outside in roll call formation. A bitch box (bullhorn) called out names. Done for the day, if yours didn't come up. Night-time, we climbed a fifty-foot tower to pull guard with no ammo! They

In a warm-lit St. Louis night You drew me into a flame. Monday at BB Your loose-knit top Stares me in the face, White-velvet In a black-silk cage. I call for Monk and a tango. Catherine D. Snow Comes up fast— You're hot, girlie! On an afternoon of morning The dark is rising. They’re here. Do you feel it? You lay cards, Look for signs; The Second Child, He is the reason. You’re tired. It won’t be long.

The first stanza is really nice and a very solid image. In the second stanza, the images move quickly and become more personal. On the third stanza, the details about Arlene seem to center the poem and where it the poet is at his most confident. Some symbolism is presented to the reader, and life and death seem to be the likely code to decipher. It seems to parallel with the ‘The second Child/He's the reason’. Whatever the case, I feel a balance is trying to be played, between a personal observation and deeper philosophical insight. To thread these concepts together can be difficult I give credit to the poet for trying his hand at such a difficult endeavor.  —Kent Walker, writing coach a. R ichard upon hearing of her death, suggested that Arlene was ‘a flame of exuberance’. b. He strongly objected to the ‘stares’ personification of the loose-knit top in ‘Your loose-knit top/Stares me in the face’. I kept it for the rhyme ' face-cage'  and because they still are, staring