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The Sweeper

Frail, wistful guardian of the broom,
The dwelling's drudge and stay,
Whom destiny gave a single task-
To keep the dust away!

Sweep off the floor and polish the chair.
It will not always last.
Some day, for all your arms can do,
The dust will hold you fast.

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There was a man. A Japanese soldier. One that did not believe in old superstitions. One that did not believe in sex before battle as charm against harm. He was an odd man. One that did not carry an amulet with pubic hair of a comfort woman. Or any piece of her. His comrades said, Be a man. The equation is, an odd man out is not man. There is no reason for logic in war. There is no reason. There was a man. His comrades said, Come raid, come pillage. Pushed him into the station. Their eyes on the holes in the wall. Watched as he came. Became. What is the equation here. There is a no equation. There was a man. One who said weeping, I am not a man, I am not a man. …

Emily Jungmin Yoon

On Fourteenth street the bugles blow, …

Kenneth Fearing

This is just a place: …

A. R. Ammons

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Alexander Pope

The glossary

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