Empires. John Balaban

      Empires

      JOHN BALABAN

      COPPER CANYON

      PRESS

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      Contents

       Title Page

       Note to Reader

       A Finger

       After the Inauguration, 2013

       Christmas Eve at Washington’s Crossing

       Cibolero

       Gods and Empire

       Poetry Reading by the Black Sea

       “The smell of autumn rain …”

       Préface en Prose

       The Alibi

       Returning after Our War

       Three Men Dancing on a River Shore

       Showgirl

       Remembering Elling Eide (1935–2012)

       Finishing Up the Novel after Some Delay

       For ChÖgyam Trungpa Rinpoche

       The Uses of Poetry

       A Visit from His Muse

       Down Under

       The Poet Retires

       Tide Pool

       At Nora’s House, Shepard’s Roost, Atlantic Beach, NC

       Waiting for the Painter to Return

       Annie’s Starling

       A Miami Moment

       Anna Akhmatova Spends the Night on Miami Beach

       Chasing Out the Demons

       Coyote past Sunset

       El Mercado

       El Cementerio de la Merced

       Looking for the Lights

       Back Then

       About the Author

       Books by John Balaban

       Acknowledgments

       Copyright

       Special thanks

      Empires

      Our generation has gradually learned the great art of living without security. We are prepared for anything…. There is a mysterious pleasure in retaining one’s reason and spiritual independence particularly in a period when confusion and madness are rampant.

      Stefan Zweig

      A FINGER

      After most of the bodies were hauled away

      and while the FBI and Fire Department and NYPD

      were still haggling about who was in charge, as smoke cleared,

      the figures in Tyvek suits came, gloved, gowned, masked,

      ghostly figures searching rubble for pieces of people,

      bagging, then sending the separate and commingled remains

      to the temporary morgue set up on site.

      This is where the snip of forefinger began its journey.

      Not alone, of course, but with thousands of other bits not lost

      or barged off with the tonnage for sorting at the city landfill.

      A delicate tip, burnt and marked “finger, distal” and sent