The illustration
is nothing to you without the application.
You lack half wit. You crush all the particles down
into close conformity, and then walk back and forth on them.
Sparkling chips of rock
are crushed down to the level of the parent block.
Were not ‘impersonal judment in aesthetic
matters, a metaphysical impossibility,’ you
might fairly achieve
it. As for butterflies, I can hardly conceive
of one’s attending upon you, but to question
the congruence of the complement is vain, if it exists.
End of the poem
15 random poems
- Song—O can ye Labour Lea? by Robert Burns
- Turtledove of the Green Land – Dedicated to Tunisian poet, Huda Hajji by Nizar Sartawi
- Олег Бундур – Дома
- Николай Некрасов – Возвращение
- The Fall by Russell Edson
- Émigrés by Anna Barkova
- Into My Heart an Air that Kills poem – A. E. Housman
- Гавриил Державин – Покаяние
- Robert Burns: The Deil’s Awa Wi’ The Exciseman:
- Song—A Health to ane I loe dear by Robert Burns
- Before, Behind, And Beyond poem – Alfred Austin
- Аля Кудряшева – Невозможно держать в памяти все человечество
- Степан Щипачев – Тебе
- To the author(s) of Manimekalai by T. Wignesan
- The Last Wolf by Mary TallMountain
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
