Raskolnikov stays as a teenager
After Siberia, after he dies;
But first he is old, with a sympathy
Colder than snow, revolution, or guns;
For youth and its ice water arteries.
Feeling that ancient obsession emerge,
His blood makes a slush in the wintertime
Petersburg. Czars reach through catacombs, time;
And link executions, conspiracies,
Soldiers and bodies of course, with alive
And dying Raskolnikov: "Massacres
Bless us with red; it's the color of change,
Of life as it will be, not should be or
Ought to be. Speed up the process a bit
And greatness replaces the sacrifice."
"A Somali-born teenager attempting to detonate what he believed was a car bomb at a packed Christmas tree-lighting ceremony in downtown Portland, Ore., was arrested by the authorities on Friday night. They had spent nearly six months tracking him and setting up a sting operation, officials in Oregon said. "
—LIZ ROBBINS and EDWARD WYATT, The New York Times, November 27, 2010
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