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Jess Walter

Your name recalls another Jesse—
The outlaw James whose name came down
The falls and tumbled graves of history,
Like Springdale dogs that will not drown.
Your books pile up, basalt-like, columns
Beneath them, reporter’s stratagems
From ink to paper, one eye dark
But one enough to light a spark.
Evince the witness of the breaking
Unbroken ground of needless naught
Within your grasp but dearly bought
Self-loathing but not self-forsaking.
Your soul, dear Jess, is nonetheless
The ruins that I’d have God bless.

Comments

  1. Quin Finnegan says:

    Nice! It’s all great, but this is especially good

    From ink to paper, one eye dark
    But one enough to light a spark.

    Appeals to something more than the books themselves. Although all those mentions are worked in so well!

    And speaking of “nought”, when is the Spokane Stanza for Travis coming up? Not to mention Vachel Lindsay?

  2. Quin Finnegan says:

    And how’s my job hunt coming along?

    Doesn’t the Bibliothécaire en chef get to hire a secretary or something?

    Think of it: we could just hang out in the conference room working out more of these stanzas, maybe breaking for a little Grand Theft Auto …

  3. You, Quin and everyone are all mad as hatters.

  4. If an alien scanned the internet they would order an invasion immediately. Get back to work.

  5. And how could Quin like any job more than bus driving. If that fucker leaves me here to face this bullshit alone I’ll never forget it.

  6. Angelico Nguyen, Esq., OP says:

    Aside from adding me to the Kollektiv, your tastes have proved nigh infallible. I haven’t read any Jess Walter, but he keeps popping up all over the place, and you seem to like him, so I hope to remedy my ignorance of the man and his work sometime in this life, and sooner rather than later.

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