Thursday, August 28, 2025

 “La Figlia Che Piange” (“young girl weeping”) 

A Work in Progress
70

Glenn Hughes enjoyed passing on his own opinions on the now famous, or infamous, poets he’d met when he had gone to England funded by academic grants to study the poets who had founded the imagist school of poetry.  Ezra Pound was the most notorious, T. S. Eliot most famous, Hilda Doolittle and Richard Aldington, the least known except to Glenn Hughes who had stayed with Aldington and his then partner, Dorothy Yorke, at his country cottage in England and house-sat it on a second occasion when Aldington had left Yorke and decamped from England to France.  He’d also met H.D. in Paris and exchanged several letters with her.  He’d sold her letters and many others to the literary archive at the University of Texas in Austin.

He had a theory on Eliot’s poem: La Figlia Che Piange.  It had been published in 1917. Hughes thought the pair of lovers depicted were Richard Aldington and H.D. reasoning that Eliot knew them both well and would have been privy to their marriage breaking up in 1917 when Aldington started his affair with Dorothy Yorke.  The affair started with Aldington climbing the stairs to a small upstairs room leaving his wife H.D. downstairs in her large bed sitting room.  Eliot staged his poem around a staircase.  Please reread it, he would tell his students, I do think the Aldington’s marital troubles gave him the idea.
If he had the poem to hand, he would discuss it as a piece of cinematography.  How Eliot poses the participants.   The poem starts off by saying: O quam te memorem virgo…but who’s the virgin, he’d ask?  It is ambiguous.  

Dick Russell © Richard M Russell
                   2025

 




Monday, August 25, 2025

Reaching for Odessa III

A Work in Progress
69

                        3

Donal stood guard his back to the boat
watching the approaches to the sandy beach
only to find on hearing noise in the rigging
sails unfurling as the craft made way
leaving the cove blown by a whipped-up wind
he’d been abandoned standing in moonlight
alone on the beach in sudden silence
wake waves slapping the sandy shore

Donal gazed at the moon in the azure water 
thinking an omen his shadow slanted
meeting a full moon’s reflection in the cove
backlit by the moon he saw his dead brother
come into the light his mother his father
his grandfather too whom Donal never knew
dressed in the uniform he wore in that war
against another generation’s minotaur

he saw they were smiling as if in a photo
he hoped they looked proud of him
he thought they did for they faded away
a cloud was passing the moon was shaded
he turned to find those footprints explained
barefoot clad in a peplos her hair falling free
Aphrodite? coming down the path to confront him
to ask him what once was unanswered

why did you come?  what brings you here?
dumbfounded he knew he’d bare his soul 
to this white clad goddess
an owlet on her wrist 
a raven on her shoulder
a spirit mother of the muses?  
Mnemosyne?

she spoke a language he thought was Greek
but her meaning was clear and her questioning deep
as the moon set over the enchanted hill


Dick Russell © Richard M Russell
                        2025

Saturday, August 23, 2025

Reaching for Odessa II

A Work in Progress
68

2


Donal steered upwind fighting the sea surge
a curtain of rain shrouding the forecastle
when calmer waters were found in an island’s lee
where suddenly the wind swung aft 
drove his craft ashore through a narrow channel
onto a sandy beach between imposing cliffs 
entering a cove with quiet anchorage
where the punch of the wind had placed them

no island like this was on the charts
were they alive? had they crossed into legend?
sheltered from the storm 
what was this haven where a warm breeze ruffled
clear blue water glowing with light
dark sky overhead

firmly beached 
keel implanted in sand
Donal went ashore
plentiful driftwood available for a fire
made in a stone hearth already in place 
and an altar strewn with bones
for sacrifice

gathered around that hearth they lit a fire
with sparks from flints on dry wood shavings
igniting salt-stained kindling to make a blaze
piled high with wooden seashore detritus
flames leaping high in the gathering dark
watching and waiting for what would come next

there was a path they could see from the beach
leading up through bushes into evergreen trees
a well-trodden path they did not dare 
for they could see footprints there in the sand
a female foot they feared as much as a giant
if not Polyphemus who but Calypso or Circe
how else to explain what was happening
if this island existed 
they were far off course
on their way to Odessa 
they’d encountered brute force

Donal stood guard having taken the watch
cheerful if apprehensive 
they were safe because magic had brought them here
they would need magic and more to slay the minotaur


Dick Russell © Richard M Russell
                        2025
 

Friday, August 22, 2025

Reaching for Odessa

A Work in Progress
67

1

Shades of Ezra Pound admirer of Catullus
on a voyage outbound    a strong wind bending the mast
main sail reefed    jib rolled to a sliver
driving our craft forward
through over swelling seas boiling with danger
reaching for Odessa
our mission to slay the minotaur
that murderous thug molesting the city

no longer in a labyrinth thirsting for revenge
at large with an army intent on conquering
driven by existential evil that’s put in
put in by avarice of Empire envy of civilization
hatred of truth

dead poets channel at Donal’s elbow
holding course with the tiller strapped to his chest
all of them Argonauts 
and Li Po urges him to bring in more wine
put music in his lines as Ezra asked
Briggflats responded 

Prévert has a headache 
when Donal taps the metal mast
cadences cadenza through his head
coins clattering on countertops
urban imagery unlike Merwin always faraway
inhabiting places where the muses still live
among tall trees clean water woodlands still green

a strong wind propels a long reach over open sea
out of sight invisible stealthily approaching
reaching for Odessa determinedly


Dick Russell © Richard M Russell
                        2025

Tuesday, August 19, 2025

Catullus Critiques

A Work in Progress
66

 
So that was his whole point
banning Ukraine from joining NATO ever
security agreements what do they mean?
don’t they mean a security guarantee just like NATO?
a guarantee Britain once gave Poland
that brought England into Hitler’s war
an EU guarantee plus nuclear-armed Britain
always willing to go to war for an ally

Though Caesar’s not the man he was he’s super smart
he played himself into a lost position
caused an unexpected intervention
found himself another part to play
messenger of bad news
NATO’s defacto border where the front line is
a strategic defeat for Russia
a victory for the West
if it would come true

when you’ve been trumped you play a long game
for time’s on your side as all things decline
before he can fail, he must first succeed
cheer on success and toast him with wine

Dick Russell © Richard M Russell
                        2025

Sunday, August 17, 2025

Stoop Labor, Catullus Complains

A Work in Progress
65

I’m crouched on the path picking ripe berries
not long before dusk when sunlight slants 
lighting huckleberry bushes making a hedge
mountain huckleberries with small leaves shining
like spears in the sun blueberries with larger leaves
easier to pick not stoop labor like huckleberries
half the size hiding under spreading fronds
that must be lifted to find ripe berries below

A sore back from stoop labor later 
I’ve fresh berries for breakfast
three quarts in the freezer
something to show for it
what did Caesar achieve?

They’ve scheduled a meeting 
it must be an intervention
are they coming to confront 
the big, beautiful bill boss?

There’s nobody at Court who will break the bad news
tell him he’s deteriorating prognosis not good
for the good of his party, it’s time to move on 
instead, they want a mad King for good

He’s still sane enough his staff won’t cross him
world leaders that meet him keep a straight face
they see massive stupidity needing to be on TV
a madman controlled only by flattery 
for two and a half hours with no break for lunch
what did Caesar gain by his one on one
he can’t sustain a thought for more than a minute
before he must go back to long held grievances
how he was victimized by Russia-gate, Obama

I’m crouched on the path picking ripe berries
not long before dusk when sunlight slants 
mulling it over how to deal with insanity
when it is a supposéd leader of humanity.


Dick Russell © Richard M Russell
                        2025

Saturday, August 16, 2025

We’re going to Odessa

A Work in Progress
64


Except the siren from the fire station
life goes forward one step at a time
when the Plectron goes off or the siren sounds
time to run towards a burning fire
there’s no time for revision 
or philosophy
life is movement
no time for debate
why firefighters roll pants over their boots
they can jump in with both feet together 

Except decency demands we stop appeasing
life goes forward one step at a time
everyday clearer our leader put in
with oppression took his side
there’s no time for revision 
or philosophy
life is movement
no time for debate
when images on our screens finally inflame us
we’re going to Odessa that place that’s on fire

But what about Gaza he’ll still appease
life goes forward one step at a time
as long as more aid gets to the children
as long as settlers aren’t worse than Hamas
there’s no time for revision 
or philosophy
life is movement
no time for debate


Dick Russell © Richard M Russell
                        2025
 

Thursday, August 14, 2025

Back on Set

A Work in Progress
63


Back on set the situation dire
cast and crew unpaid since a new regime took power
art needs a patron should not have to cower
poverty though much-admired costs money

what were they to do stranded on a set
placed there to play parts with a mythic cast
standing in the shade awaiting their cue
ID-checking soldiers won’t let them past

I was in a cage once did good work, said Ezra
I have a horror of policeman’s helmets, said Donal
London policemen, bobbies on the beat
cops chased me on my bike for riding without a light
coming down Herne Hill in the dark from school
my father’s name was Homer, said Ezra
apt 
all on the stage were mesmerized, rapt
me grandfather was a congressman, Thaddeus Pound
they used scrip as money once in Chippewa
Falls 
that’s where Seymour Cray was from, said Donal
remembering the Halle Lab down by the river
where Steller’s jays came to a bird feeder
Pause
money is hard to spend
it’s available to lend
mortgages are scrip too
Pause
Caesar’s on his way to Rome
to cut a deal, with…
Pause
in retrospect it’s what you put in 
a deal’s made like sausage
it’s all in what’s put in…


Dick Russell © Richard M Russell
                        2025

Saturday, August 9, 2025

Catullus Scents the Air

A Work in Progress
62


There’s opportunity coming to clear our air 
corruption contagion betrayal extortion 
reeking from tyrants vying for power
will this fresh breeze that fills our sails
carry us to that further shore
or will we be becalmed once more
trapped in this fetid stench for evermore?

this wind that’s blowing Urania's showing
hopeful portents encouraging omens
a half-life of tyrants ticking away
for how can the gods stomach all they see?
of murder wanton callous starvation
anonymous death-dealing destruction
wrought by tyrants anxious of extinction

hope is scented coming from everywhere
a fresh bouquet on a good sailing breeze
that shore’s in sight we crave its delight
its food its water safe places to sleep
trees lawns fountains codes of honor we’ll keep
let the gods sustain us and disperse this reek
this whiff of betrayal extortion too steep.


Dick Russell © Richard M Russell
                        2025

Thursday, August 7, 2025

Autocrats

A Work in Progress
61


Autocrats come and go
naming in my lifetime 
Amin Ceausescu Sadat…

what’s the half-life for an autocrat?
historians could tell us
kings were sacrificed once they’d served a year
alas civilization has become more woke
since those times when men were warriors
women seldom spoke

now one is threatening irradiation
playing nuclear poker
he’s anted up a nuke strike
not one submarine but two was bid back 
“do you want to start a fight”
if he wants one that autocrat
maybe he’s next up to bat

somebody insane just raised the stakes
threatening biblical Armageddon
who ramps up to ramp down
has threatened nukes before
crying wolf to no avail
instead, the West is doubling down
for a half-life moment has arrived

change will come walls will fall
revolutions may occur
Gaza resembles Hiroshima horror
Alligator Alcatraz is a concentration camp
Ukraine is fighting for all our freedom
Autocrats come and go.



Dick Russell © Richard M Russell
                      2025

Saturday, August 2, 2025

To Crows
                 after John Keats



In years past they stole our ripened cherries 
our neighborhood community of crows
but they leave alone our ripe blueberries
though we cover planted bean seed furrows

sometimes a murder attracts attention
crows attacking a perched owl in daylight
often, they visit our fountain to perch

warning calls alarm by repetition
crows have no reputation to besmirch
they police our back yard as if by right

seeing off ravens harassing hawks
dive-bombing eagles pecking them in flight
juveniles a nuisance with demanding squawks
crouch shrugging their wings a pitiful sight

crows post sentries on tree top guard posts
organizing platoons that no one leads
at low tide crows congregate on the beach

for crabs for clams for what a tide pool hosts
fresh water for all within easy reach
from seven springs year-round that feeds

this tree lined quiet bay crows claim they own
clams that crows dropped lie splintered on the beach
tree stumps uprooted that riverbanks disown
rocks where otters took barnacles look bleached

crows know their enemies they know their friends
intelligent birds they know we exist
they trust us to bring their young to our yard

they’ve stolen cherries so they make amends
through crow generations this trust persists
their vocal croaking inspiring a bard

who learned his craft with crayon and paper
learning to use an opposable thumb
making marks that became words that caper
away from a keyboard his fingers now strum.


Dick Russell © Richard M Russell
                        2025

Act 2, Scene 5 A Work in Progress 93 Briseis comes back on set, swinging easily over the windowsill into the room, closing the sash window b...