A poem by Stan Raines

I see him, Lord of the Porch,
And all that he surveyed,
Weaving a web of words
From the old world,
The old, old world,
Raising again the cry
Of man against injustice
Of man against man,
And smack and smack and smack
The shaggy heads of school boys,
Errant bullies, and school men alike
With the All that had not changed
Not a whit or a whistle
Since Gilgamesh strode his plain
Or Virgil recast history
In favor of Empire;
Since Vlad impaled his hosts
Or Gibbon impugned
That old dead story.

The blood courses:
Até destroys,
Love creates:
It’s the stories we crave.

I put up this poem from about four years ago in honor of the arrival of the very same Thomas Thornburg on these pages. I knew I had saved it for some reason. His poem immediately follows. And a warm welcome, Dr. Thornburg.

-stan