Shall we gather at the river?

Jul 23, 2016 | Predicates and commas and whatnot

What is left of all of it?
Blind hoboes sell American flags
And bad poems of patriotism
On Saturday evenings forever in the rain,
Between the cathouses and the slag heaps
And the river, down home.
Oh Jesus Christ, the Czechoslovakians
Are drunk again, clambering
Down the sand-pitted walls
Of the grave.

…from “The River Down Home” by James Wright, with whom I’m fairly obsessed these days.