After Emily Dickinson's N° 67 "Success is Counted Sweetest" posted by Garrison Keillor on the Writers' Almanac for today's election (click on that link to go read and listen). A cut up process with Dickinson's poems and other words taken from political speeches and the press.
Here, far from my counted sweetest domain
Wherin to comprehend huddled need,
Not one elsewhere, but multiplicitous, flag
Glued to screens, clear of the pounding on whose forbidden
Nothing so much burst agonized and native:
A country of those who wait, nectar
Massed in some portal, all purple ears
Pressed to bluegrey morning-song.
Success is this public never succumbing,
Impatient, anxious. What’s that which requires sorest
Long-ago felled Hosts? We who took to radios,
Eye the definition so tricolour, confetti defeated, dying
Shine as if strains of Triumph! today
Can tell bright Victory! This secreting
Below our ear, awaited, closer to distant matter,
Thinned as an oboe almost tuned, to hear joy’s pure receding.
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