b.z. niditch | 1968


Whether in Paris
admiring Rodin
or Appolinaire
you could discover
a plastic bomb
in an oboe case
or in a cover
of a worn Baudelaire
you could still comprehend
a still life
by a fiddler’s dresser
or reading Adorno
from the Frankfurt school
playing a double concerto
of Bach
or watching Potemkin
in a baby carriage
explode like pushcarts
down ancient steppes
and new pop art
by Warhol
revolution was in vogue
with a freedom’s school air,
students in red shirts
dusted off old Voltaire,
news spread quickly
to Prague or Berlin
rumors of change
reading Marx or Mao
a baby was named Lenin
yet soon John Waters
camp replaces Fellini
and devil make care
tourists stare away
from Rossellini
or the cinema auteur
of Visconti
for their Baedeker’s,
and piano movers
with weak legs
hear me play jazz
paying me
in kegs of beer,
thrones in
1848 were to be
overthrown in ’68
and here
in a bar somewhere
seeking justice
in Mayfair.

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