individualism for the masses

BK Marcus is an amateur political economist with no formal education in the subject.

He works from Charlottesville, Virginia as an editorial consultant for the Ludwig von Mises Institute and managing editor of Mises.org.

He is no longer a house husband, nor a faculty spouse, but he is still a dilettante and a layabout, at least in spirit.

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"It is no crime to be ignorant of economics, which is, after all, a specialized discipline and one that most people consider to be a 'dismal science.' But it is totally irresponsible to have a loud and vociferous opinion on economic subjects while remaining in this state of ignorance."

Murray Rothbard

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Benjamin Tucker Marcus
February 19, 2010

David Miller

December 30th, 2007 by bkmarcus

After I posted an email from my friend about the assassination of Benazir Bhutto, Scott Lahti and David Zemens asked in the comments about the author, David Miller — specifically where they could read more of his prose.

David was the best man at my wedding and the humorless friend I mention in my first piece for LewRockwell.com, “Staw Men & Ham Sandwiches.”

He is a poet and a photographer, who works for Associated Press, but unfortunately, despite his insinuation otherwise, David doesn’t currently keep a blog. I will encourage him to try again.

In December, during the fortnight around the solstice, my wife and I sip single-malt whisky and take turns each evening, one reading the other a poem about the season. Every year, I include some of David Miller’s poetry in my readings. Here’s the one I read this year:

“Christmas Shopping”

Our hands slip apart,
I’m castaway.
Bobbing in a pedestrian current
thrown out among the hungry shoppers
of east 59th street.

David?

My name, like me is so small
among these people
as they hunt for symbols,
things to give the sense of
“Lie with me for 12 times 4 years.”

She scans full-circle
a lighthouse look,
taking in the street
(its pickpockets,
          vendors,
               beggars innocents.)
in two half circles.

I, a baby boy in a red row boat
lost in the juggling and jostling
     handbags-thighs-knees-shoes.
She picks me out
the child she takes clasping
warm and tight against
the tide
her mother smell sweet,
with a deep hint of woman
                    shuts out the rest.

Lets it be unsaid
that you are my love,
               my jacket,
                    my safety belt
and I will never undo you
or let you come undone.

4 Responses

  1. On ,
    David Zemens said,

    Thank you for the followup information about David Miller and for sharing one of his poems with us.

    Have a Happy New Year.


  2. On ,
    Black Bloke said,

    I feel like I’ve seen him while walking on the street. But then again New York can do that to you.

    http://shogun8.com/psestframe1.html


  3. On ,
    Black Bloke said,

    This was the link I meant to put there: http://www.shogun8.com/poetry/intimations/i-3.holiday.html


  4. On ,
    David Zemens said,

    Thanks for the further information on where to read more of David’s work. For those readers who might not know how to dissect a URL, here is the location for his full list of writing:

    http://www.shogun8.com/psestframe1.html


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