Some Flowers (for Irving Howe)

Moss, Stanley

In a world where you are asleep with your fathers, in that part of the forest where trees read, your tree still reads to us. Tonight your branches bend over Conrad, Trotsky, Saba, the evergreen...

...Your last sweet note that reached me after your death, I left on the dashboard in a book, the way they used to press dry flowers...
...As I drove along in Canada, it flew out of the window I thought it was a bill...
...Some have seen among the flowers religious orders, proved a rose a Christian, while of course they pruned away the Jew...
...STANLEY MOSS 258 DISSENT...
...Tonight your branches bend over Conrad, Trotsky, Saba, the evergreen Irish...
...It is easier for me to believe flowers know something about wages and hours, a fair day's pay for a fair day's work in the sun, than to believe in the resurrection of the flesh...
...Joyce hated flowers, his wife put a house plant on his grave...
...There are no socialist flowers, yet the balmiest wind favors a more even distribution of wealth...
...When you died, the Amalgamated Clothing Workers of America published a public notice of their mourning and sent flowers...

Vol. 42 • April 1995 • No. 2


 
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