That day, in the slipping of torsos and straining flanks br on the bloodied ooze of fields plowed by the iron, br And the smoke bluish near earth and bronze in the sunshine br floating like cotton-down, br And the harsh and terrible screaming, br And that strange vibration at the roots of us… br Desire, fierce, like a song… br And we heard br (Do you remember?) br All the Red Cross bands on Fifth avenue br And bugles in little home towns br And children's harmonicas bleating br br America! br br And after… br (Do you remember?) br The drollery of the wind on our faces, br And horizons reeling, br And the terror of the plain br Heaving like a gaunt pelvis to the sun… br Under us - threshing and twanging br Torn-up roots of the Song…br br Lola Ridgebr br