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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535593" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>History Before Was Brunch Ever</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535593" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">For Workers everywhere, bricks, straw, verse.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535593" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The breast naturally of Woman is bread before<br>there was bread, the child the loaf swelling in <br>Her arms to farm & from such frame a world. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535593" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Thus Labor. Bread is History. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535593" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Child's toil, unspoiled, forms a culture beast, <br>he crawls forth, makes bread of soil native & <br>other, a Mother culture all & still, everywhere.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535593" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">- Diogenes Teufelsdröckh, from 'Immigrants Exile, Labor, Drive Or Will, And The Lady Mother - A Malafiction'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535593" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">1</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535593" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">History before was brunch ever in the world.<br>Sunday. St. Marks & 1st Avenue. Red, red Simone, <br>doors open to sun and saunter, the wander, now<br>'arm in arm they goes' just past the corner where <br>was found Berryman abandoned, run over, bleeding <br>ink into the avenue's black page, a then-new copy, <br>heavy, of Zukofsky ('Z') 'A' already lost, me, in the <br>reading but gladly Berryman on my lap, no, knee/<br>kneel, rather, while reading 'Z' evoke old ward Jews, <br>Italians, horse-drawn venders, runners about with <br>carts heaving, vegetable griefs returned to church <br>to synagogue dark alley dead ends where what is <br>left out of grief is carved into bricks with knives</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535593" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">(O what is the name, lost perhaps, of <br>he who once sharpened all our knives?) : </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535593" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">THIS OUR LIFE<br>SOME FEW RETURN <br>TO HEAR/SEE <br>EVIDENCE OF</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535593" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">THE NATURE OF A CITY <br>IS TO CONTINUALLY<br>ERASE ITSELF</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535593" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>2</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535593" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Zuke** saw said feigned<br>old tongue which is an<br>old seeing, shaping art<br>or 'newed it up' out with<br>forth- for hind- or other-<br>see heat lightning<br>sunder into new sight<br>some his this rendering<br>into each individual eye<br>ear whatever century's<br>year: </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535593" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">'...words earth-saving history<br>not to deny the gifts<br>of time where those who<br>never met together may hear<br>this other time sound one.'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535593" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">'Tuning<br>to sounding stringe.. Won by<br>his song: O framar of<br>the starry circle, Who, lening<br>to the last grounstone..the<br>great heauen gidest..stable erthe<br>do steady..As stured sea<br>turnes up..ye hardnid snowy<br>ball by cold By feruent<br>heate of sonne resolues..sees, <br>What wer, what be, what<br>shall bifall..how found knowe<br>Suche forme..wiche knowes not<br>shape? As oft the running<br>stile In sea paper leue, <br>Some printed lettars..marke haue<br>none at all..But a<br>passion..sturs The myndz forse<br>while body liues, What light<br>the yees..bit, Or sound<br>in ear...strike.'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535593" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">'The sestina, then, the repeated end words<br>Of the lines' winding around themselves, <br>Since continuous in the Head, whatever has been read, <br>whatever is heard, <br>whatever is seen</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535593" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Perhaps goes back cropping up again with<br>Inevitable recurrence again in the blood<br>Where the spaces of verse are not visual<br>But a movement, <br>With vision in the lines merely a movement...'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535593" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">'Strange<br>To reach that age, <br>remember<br>a tide<br>And full<br>for a time<br>be young.'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535593" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"></a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535593" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">**'Zuke' for Zukofsky</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Warren+Falcon">Warren Falcon</a></strong></div>