Prince Igor at First Light
Things were much better when I rode with Attila & drove an Etzel.
In those days, the choral parts were terrific. Even the incidental music got its chance to settle old scores.
Any remaining phrases hung in the forest air like wet woodsmoke or the corpses of executed sentences.
The larger cause suspended life and reinvested time itself.
O, the savage verve of it.
The ruthless gore & pitiless mayhem. The stench, the pandemonium.
All that brutal offhand cruelty.
My heart was constantly on alert.
The tree gods gave us their blessings.