Governor’s Island
1969
“Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis ?…”
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
T.S. Eliot, (1900-1949)
The arduous, overstated virility of the ambience
Cold, hard and acrid as brass
Relentless, constant as the surrounding brackish waters
Of the deep, dark Hudson’s eternal tides…
Like a young man’s tearless, unavowed solitude
In the lone, Spartan celibacy of a hard bunk
Enveloped in sterile, rugged, anonymous sheets
And the vague odour of industrial laundry
The routine masquerade of starched white uniforms
Senseless ceremony in the brisk early morning air
Forcing a rigid, meaningless salute
Reciting the same empty phrases
Supposed to howl “Yes, Sir !” in feigned obedience
To some insignificant, masochistic Sergeant
In execution of some purely capricious “order”
The sole purpose of which is your humiliation
Forming straight, disciplined monotonous lines
Herded like cattle towards
Soulless, saltpetre meals slopped into stainless steel vessels
In an atmosphere of utter boredom…
Paradoxically, across the Bay, rose Manhattan Island
The awesome Apple and her Civilisation and… Freedom
Reflecting, at night, her sparkling lights on the water
Lady Liberty out there holding her torch to no one’s edification
On a smuggled radio in the barracks
The news related the Woodstock Festival
Hard Rock Music and Sex and Drugs
Youngsters making Love and not War
And protest movements on dozens of campuses
Resistors burning their draft cards in the streets
Young women’s rights protesters reclaiming abortion
Publicly emancipating themselves of their now superfluous bras…
Tonight, he would make a break for it
Somehow sneak onto the ferryboat
Leap off on the other side
Or perish in the icy waves of the Hudson
…i grow old, i grow old, i will wear my trousers rolled……
i think there is no time left for, nor any point in fighting then I find myself writing a letter to the editor concerning the lack of access to health care suffered by many in this land of plenty.
peace,
Evelyn
Well, as you see, most of my time is devoted to writing and translating to and from French…
Who could ever have imaged that “Eddie” Lamb would ever do anything “serious” in his life…?
Most of my professional career was in social work…
Keep the faith…,
Edward