Explore "Regarding an American Village" by Maxwell Bodenheim on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
/ I. O local mannerisms, / Coarsely woven cloaks / Thrown upon the plodding, / Emaciated days within this village, / I have no contempt or praise / To give you -- no desire / To rip you off, discovering / Skin, and undulations known as sin, / And no desire to revise you / With glamorous endearments of rhyme. / Slowly purchased garments / Of cowardice, men wear you / And aid their practised shrinking / From one faint irritation / Escaping nightly from their souls. / Night makes men uncertain -- / The mystery of a curtain / Different from those that hang in windows. / At night the confidence of flesh / Becomes less strong and men / Are forced to rescue it / With desperate hilarities.
/ Observe them now within the bland / Refuge of manufactured light. / Between the counters of a village store / They arm their flesh with feigned / Convictions brought by laughter. / Afterwards, as they roll along / The dark roads leading to their farms, / The grumbling of their souls will compete / With the neighing of horses / And the stir of leaves and weeds. / Night will lean upon them, / Teasing the sturdiness of flesh.