> I made this point in my mind as I read Ken, but then
> I wondered if he
> meant by "we can write poetry" that "we can _write_
> poetry." _We_ can
> indeed learn a lot about the English Revolution by
> _reading_ what Milton
> wrote (though reading him with Hill sure helps in
> that), but I'm not
> sure that Milton necessarily learned about the
> English Revolution in the
> writing of PL?
This may be off the subject, but I'm killing time today.
Song
The song tells us of our old way of living, Of life in former times. Fragrance of florals, How things merely ended when they ended, Of beginning again into a sigh. Later
Some movement is reversed and the urgent masks Speed toward a totally unexpcted end Like clocks out of control. Is this the gesture That was meant, long ago, the curving in
Of frustrated denials, like jungle foliage And the simplicity of the ending all to be let go In quick, suffocating silence? The day Puts toward a nothingness of sky
Its face of rusticated brick. Sooner or later, The cars lament, the whole business will be hurled
down. Meanwhile we sit, scarcely daring to speak, To breathe, as though this closeness cost us life.
The pretensions of a past will some day Make it over into progress, a growing up, As beautiful as a new history book, With uncut pages, unseen illustrations,
And the purpose of the many stops and starts will
be made clear: Backing into the old affair of not wanting to grow Into the night, which becomes a house, a parting of
ways Taking us far into sleep. A dumb love.
--John Ashbery
For what it's worth,
Alec
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