Word: crows
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...Crow. An organizer for the Ku Klux Klan in the '40s, an affiliation he has since recanted, Byrd, 53, has a less than statesmanlike record in the Senate. There he has consistently sided with Southern conservatives on civil rights issues and is noted for his "industry" rather than his legal erudition or constitutional insight. Indeed, he has never practiced law. He earned his law degree in 1963 by studying at night, and has yet to pass a bar examination. Even Attorney General John Mitchell demurred when Byrd's name was raised. But one account has it that Treasury...
Connally's thesis, reportedly, was that picking Byrd would make the Senate eat crow. After rejecting Haynsworth and Carswell, it would now be faced with rejecting one of its own members. Even Byrd's Senate critics would find themselves in a corner. Connally argued that the Senate would have to approve him because he was a member of the club. The assessment was probably correct. A quiet Administration nose count indicated that fewer than ten Senators would vote...
...pass another soul. In this clear air and never notice it--", from the "Widow" a poem of the fantasies of grief clearly about her mother. A much less proficient poem "Black Rook in Rainy Weather" recalls in tone and subject to Robert Frost's "Dust of Snow" about the crow and the saving of a day he had rued, which in turn sounds like Aesop's fable of "The Fox and the Crow"--the same simpleminded experience...
...Craney Crow" Dr. John invites the listener to take part in a ritual which involves a call and response pattern punctuated by the excellent slide guitar work of Eric Clapton. As the Reverend Dr. John and his congregation are involved in wailing, "Chick-a-ma, Chick-a-ma, Chick-a-ma, Chick-a-ma Craney Crow," Clapton is busy accenting and amplifying the anagogical aura of the song with restrained yet amazingly powerful guitar lines. "Craney Crow" is Dr. John and his followers at their musical and mystical best...
...egged on artificially, no place to run, Cocks crow at sockets to plug in the sun. If to such an Orwellian life I were fated, I would will myself never to be incubated...