Machines
Dearest, note how these two are alike:
This harpsicord pavane by Purcell
And the racer’s twelve-speed bike. . . .
Dearest, note how these two are alike:
This harpsicord pavane by Purcell
And the racer’s twelve-speed bike. . . .
Earth’s Wrath at our assaults is slow to come
But relentless when it does. It has to do
With catastrophic change, and with the limit . . .
I loved him not; and yet, now he is gone,
I feel I am alone.
I check’d him while he spoke; yet, could he speak, . . .
About the Shark, phlegmatical one,
Pale sot of the Maldive sea,
The sleek little pilot-fish, azure and slim, . . .
A march in the ranks hard-prest, and the road unknown,
A route through a heavy wood with muffled steps in the darkness,
Our army foil’d with loss severe, and the sullen remnant retreating, . . .
March 10th and the snow flees like eloping brides
into rain. The imperceptible change begins
out of an old rage and glistens, chaste, with its new
craving, spring. May your desire always overcome . . .
Honor a going thing, goldfinch, corporation, tree,
morality: any working order,
animate or inanimate: it . . .
All the new thinking is about loss.
In this it resembles all the old thinking.
The idea, for example, that each particular erases . . .
I had come to the house, in a cave of trees,
Facing a sheer sky.
Everything moved,—a bell hung ready to strike, . . .
I
The grey sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low; . . .