Peter Balakian

The Sunday Poem: Peter Balakian

        World Trade Center / Mail Runner / 73   There was no languor, no drowsy trade winds, or stoned-out stupor of lapping waves, only news, the big board of crime, corporate raiding, selling short and long. It didn'’t matter, I was no Ishmael. I just hovered there [...]

By | 2016-11-11T21:55:32+00:00 09.10.11|The Sunday Poem, Words|Comments Off on The Sunday Poem: Peter Balakian