Carl Sandburg on Rod Blagojevich

Hair, dark brown and strange
Inhuman in shape and bounce
Protects him from facts

There is a long tradition of epic Serbian poetry, usually celebrating glorious defeats at the hands of Turks, or more recently western Europe. So I think he really wanted to quote this one:

“I’m afraid that there will be a brawl.
And if really there will be a brawl,
Woe to one who is next to MarkoRod!”

Holy God, nojo: I thought of doing a poetry post on this PRECISELY LIKE THIS ONE on the cabride home from the airport last night. (Yeah, I was out of town on this most wondrous of days.) Was going to call it Blagowinkle’s Corner.

Parachute me there!
This thing is bleeping golden–
Not a giveaway.

Incidentally, Rod Blagojevich went hunting a while back, with a shiny new shotgun and new all-weather gear from Bass Pro Shops (with the pricetags still on, naturally). First time lucky — he showed off the albatross at the post-hunt press conference.

Turning and turning at the Thompson Center,
The Blago cannot hear the impeacher;
Things fall apart; the center fucking sucks;
Mere anarchy loosed upon Illinois,
The rage-choked tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is fucked;
The best seek a conviction, while the worst
Are full of fucking intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Bleeping is at hand.
The Second Bleeping! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Dan Rostenkowski
Troubles my sight: somewhere in drifts of Ravenswood
A shape with bad hairdo and the head of a Cub,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the snow,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant Tribune scribes.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking L train,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Wrigleyville to be born?

(Wm. Bleeping Yeats)

Bravo! I bow before the poetic skilz of both of you, Nojo and CB.