When this first appeared, I critiqued the third stanza as "wretched" - a rhetorical excess by which I earn my nickname, I suppose. I still believe that weak causality between the snow falling and the man's remaining on the ground mars the poem, but wretched it is not. This is a wonderfully lyrical piece that pays belated homage to those slaughtered at Wounded Knee. I fully agree with Rhina's characterizing it as a triumph.
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Bill
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