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Glory.

Herbert Brownell was the Attorney General. Ezra Pound was reciting some Provencal. I was seventeen Every terrifying hungover sunrise that fall. Thanksgiving weekend 1953 I made my pilgrimage to Pound, Who said, Kike-sucking Pusey will destroy Harvard unless you save it. I persuaded him two words in his translation of Confucius should change. His pal Achilles Fang led me to the empty attic of the Yenching Institute, In the vast gloom arranged two metal folding chairs Under the one light bulb hanging from the ceiling, And hating me, knee to knee, Unsmihngly asked, What do you know? Pound sent a message to MacLeish. Archie, wake up. United States of America v. Ezra Pound. My song will seek and detonate your heat. Pound reciting with his eyes closed filled the alcove with glory. My art will find and detonate your heart. I was a freshman and everywhere in Washington, D.C. I walked, I dreamed.
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Author:Seidel, Frederick
Publication:The American Poetry Review
Date:Jan 1, 1993
Words:154
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