Below the Renaissance defiles
Europe’s starving junctions twist.
Famine flags clear the downward miles,
The deathwatch ticking at his wrist.
Up from the dark to this dark time
The engines of despair have churned,
The bridges folded but the climb
Was worth the fuel of books it burned.
Although American technique,
The gay integrity of friend,
Afford a pittance to the weak
And can lick evil with one hand,
My neighbor still has no appeal
But technic for her washing machine,
And slowly on the Nazi wheel
Turned years unbroken. Does that mean
God has no axe to grind and...