Here is a revolver.
It has an amazing language all its own.
It delivers unmistakable ultimatums.
It is the last word.
A simple, little human forefinger can tell a terrible story with it.
Hunger, fear, revenge, robbery hide behind it.
It is the claw of the jungle made quick and powerful.
It is the club of the savage turned to magnificent precision.
It is more rapid than any judge or court of law.
It is less subtle and treacherous than any one lawyer or ten.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Before The Beatles: Carl Sandburg's "Revolver"
A researcher has found a previously unknown poem by Carl Sandburg, whose work on Lincoln getting fresh attention again. The poem, titled "A Revolver," certainly has resonance in the current gun debate. Here's much of it: