Robert Lowell quotes

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At it in its familiar twang: "My friend,
Cut your own throat. Cut your own throat. Now! Now!"
this planned
Babel of Boston where our money talks
Our fathers wrung their bread from stocks and stones
And fenced their gardens with the Redman's bones;
the mud
Flies from his hunching wings and beak--my heart,
The blue kingfisher dives on you in fire.
O mud
For watermelons gutted to the crust,
Eliot dead, you saying,
"And who is left to understand my jokes?
And I, "Who else has been in Purgatory?"
And he, "To begin with a swelled head and end with swelled
Their monument sticks like a fishbone
in the city's throat.
Its Colonel is as lean
as a compass-needle.
The Aquarium is gone. Everywhere,
giant finned cars nose forward like fish;
a savage servility
slides by on grease.
Colonel Shaw
and his bell-cheeked Negro infantry
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