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
- Le Verbe Etre poem – Andre Breton poems
- Николай Заболоцкий – Я не ищу гармонии в природе
- Song of Medical Dick and Medical Davy by Oliver St. John Gogarty
- Ольга Седакова – Вьюга
- It Is a Beauteous Evening by William Wordsworth
- Cinema Therapy and The MovieMaking Process
- Heredity by Tony Harrison
- Portrait From The Infantry
- Sonnet # 17 by Luis A. Estable
- Аnything can happen
- Extempore on some commemorations of Thomson by Robert Burns
- Enemies by Siegfried Sassoon
- Анатолий Жигулин – Черные листья осины
- come, sun rays by Raj Arumugam
- Владимир Высоцкий – Дорожный дневник: Часть IV
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).
