The New Compass: A Critical Review
Poems
R. L. Barth
Wherefore my worde is still (I change it not)
That Warre seemes sweete
to such as raunge it not.
—George Gascoigne
Battlefield Prayer
The dead a-gibbering, and we who ken
Hear “Fuck
it! Don’t mean nothin’.” Yea. Amen.
Veterans Day
at
A Dialog Between the Heart and the Head
“The valiant
populate these hallowed places!”
Along with
cowards, fools, and hard luck cases.
M.I.A.s
Ghostly, we
are like disembodied sounds:
Voices afar,
echoes diminishing.
Definitions
1.
“Body count,”
noun; unit of measure; see
“Battlefield,”
“casualties,” “illusory.”
2.
“To frag,” verb, transitive:
Kill one so
others live.
Wealth
Mother of
cares, flattering brats about you,
I’m fearful
with and sorrowful without you.
—Palladas
(fl. 395-408)
Critique
Well, Palladas, the latter statement’s true.
I can’t
speak to the first one, nor could you.
To
Maj. William Umbach*
You learned
that Top Gun fantasies are dense
With blood
and bone and human consequence;
And yet, you’re
only the foreshadowing—
For
somewhere just beyond your other wing,
Past orders
what flight leader could contrive,
Another
Guardsman rolls into his dive.
*Maj.
William Umbach was the Air National Guard flight
leader who, with his Air National Guard wingman, Maj. Harry Schmidt, bombed
friendly Canadian forces in
Barth, R. L.
“Poems.” The New Compass: A Critical Review 1 (June 2003) <http://www.thenewcompass.ca/jun2003/barth.html>