@article{justice_memory_1987,
	title = {In {Memory} of the {Unknown} {Poet} {Robert} {Boardman} {Vaughn}},
	shorttitle = {In {Memory} of the {Unknown} {Poet} {Robert} {Boardman} {Vaughn}},
	abstract = {But the essential advantage for a poet is not, to have a beautiful world with which to deal: it is to be able to see beneath both beauty and ugliness; to see the boredom, and the horror, and the glory. --T. S. Eliot

It was his story. It had always been his story.
It followed him, it overtook him finally--
The boredom, and the horror, and the glory.

Probably at the end he was not yet sorry, 
Even as the boots were brutalizing him in the alley.
It was his story. It had always been his story.

Blown on a blue horn, full of sound and fury, 
But signifying, O signifying magnificently 
The boredom, and the horror, and the glory.

I picture the snow as falling without hurry 
To cover the cobbles and toppled ashcans completely.
It was his story. It had always been his story.

Lately he had wandered between St. Mark's place and the Bowery, 
Already half a spirit, mumbling and muttering sadly. 
O the boredom, and the horror, and the glory!

All done now. But I remember the fiery, 
Hypnotic eye and the raised voice blazing with poetry. 
It was his story and had always been his story--
The boredom, and the horror, and the glory.},
	journal = {The Sunset Maker},
	author = {Justice, Donald},
	year = {1987},
	keywords = {Appendix II Villanelles Done},
}

{"_id":"PC629WBMJs8rpwrwa","bibbaseid":"justice-inmemoryoftheunknownpoetrobertboardmanvaughn-1987","author_short":["Justice, D."],"bibdata":{"bibtype":"article","type":"article","title":"In Memory of the Unknown Poet Robert Boardman Vaughn","shorttitle":"In Memory of the Unknown Poet Robert Boardman Vaughn","abstract":"But the essential advantage for a poet is not, to have a beautiful world with which to deal: it is to be able to see beneath both beauty and ugliness; to see the boredom, and the horror, and the glory. –T. S. Eliot It was his story. It had always been his story. It followed him, it overtook him finally– The boredom, and the horror, and the glory. Probably at the end he was not yet sorry, Even as the boots were brutalizing him in the alley. It was his story. It had always been his story. Blown on a blue horn, full of sound and fury, But signifying, O signifying magnificently The boredom, and the horror, and the glory. I picture the snow as falling without hurry To cover the cobbles and toppled ashcans completely. It was his story. It had always been his story. Lately he had wandered between St. Mark's place and the Bowery, Already half a spirit, mumbling and muttering sadly. O the boredom, and the horror, and the glory! All done now. But I remember the fiery, Hypnotic eye and the raised voice blazing with poetry. It was his story and had always been his story– The boredom, and the horror, and the glory.","journal":"The Sunset Maker","author":[{"propositions":[],"lastnames":["Justice"],"firstnames":["Donald"],"suffixes":[]}],"year":"1987","keywords":"Appendix II Villanelles Done","bibtex":"@article{justice_memory_1987,\n\ttitle = {In {Memory} of the {Unknown} {Poet} {Robert} {Boardman} {Vaughn}},\n\tshorttitle = {In {Memory} of the {Unknown} {Poet} {Robert} {Boardman} {Vaughn}},\n\tabstract = {But the essential advantage for a poet is not, to have a beautiful world with which to deal: it is to be able to see beneath both beauty and ugliness; to see the boredom, and the horror, and the glory. --T. S. Eliot\n\nIt was his story. It had always been his story.\nIt followed him, it overtook him finally--\nThe boredom, and the horror, and the glory.\n\nProbably at the end he was not yet sorry, \nEven as the boots were brutalizing him in the alley.\nIt was his story. It had always been his story.\n\nBlown on a blue horn, full of sound and fury, \nBut signifying, O signifying magnificently \nThe boredom, and the horror, and the glory.\n\nI picture the snow as falling without hurry \nTo cover the cobbles and toppled ashcans completely.\nIt was his story. It had always been his story.\n\nLately he had wandered between St. Mark's place and the Bowery, \nAlready half a spirit, mumbling and muttering sadly. \nO the boredom, and the horror, and the glory!\n\nAll done now. But I remember the fiery, \nHypnotic eye and the raised voice blazing with poetry. \nIt was his story and had always been his story--\nThe boredom, and the horror, and the glory.},\n\tjournal = {The Sunset Maker},\n\tauthor = {Justice, Donald},\n\tyear = {1987},\n\tkeywords = {Appendix II Villanelles Done},\n}\n\n","author_short":["Justice, D."],"key":"justice_memory_1987","id":"justice_memory_1987","bibbaseid":"justice-inmemoryoftheunknownpoetrobertboardmanvaughn-1987","role":"author","urls":{},"keyword":["Appendix II Villanelles Done"],"metadata":{"authorlinks":{}},"html":""},"bibtype":"article","biburl":"https://bibbase.org/zotero/amandafrench","dataSources":["S3my8qdSSqDLjhWBY"],"keywords":["appendix ii villanelles done"],"search_terms":["memory","unknown","poet","robert","boardman","vaughn","justice"],"title":"In Memory of the Unknown Poet Robert Boardman Vaughn","year":1987}