Not sure why I chose this poem tonight (below). Maybe it’s from watching Sin City earlier, and a comment Justin made about how clear-cut things are in noir films, how people are very clearly right or wrong. In the case of the characters in Sin City though, there are some incredibly Machiavellian paths to that greater good.
In looking around for a poem tonight, I cracked open a collection by Robert Bly. The one I was drawn to is called The Russian, but I realized that I had posted that poem on here already.
I liked that poem a great deal. So much so that I wanted to have some space here, so I could link back to it.
