It drew people to it like a fire,
The needle floating up and down its dial,
Fishing for the news. It was a horror house,
A band-stand, Europe in flames,
A dummy and his master.
Among
The cloudy mirrors and calendars,
The radio knobs are toys now,
The beasts have been dragged out;
No tankers hug the coast at night,
Afraid of German submarines; the 1940s
Became the 50s.
The radio crackled
Like a forest once, or glittered
Like a pier in the brain’s darkness,
Walked by Miss Americas carrying
Flowers out with the tide.
—Lawrence Dugan
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Is Churchill America’s Hero? (ft. Sean McMeekin)
In this episode, Sean McMeekin joins R. R. Reno on The Editor’s Desk to talk about his…
The West Distorted
G. K. Chesterton’s novel The Flying Inn begins with a strange seaside encounter involving one Misysra Ammon,…
Does Just War Doctrine Require Moral Certainty?
Pope Leo XIV has made it clear that the U.S. war on Iran does not, in his…
