I promise this has a point

see this Child out where

once You sang remembered

songs about that ten-days Call

Me i’ll sing too.

we think ourselves Heroic walkers in sound.

i see Your angled lip

it bears evidence of Wiles.

watch us Move and exist

exist and – Faster

old Now and tired then

gone.  the child is still there For

not Fear so much as a warm boredom towards our faces.

First Draft. Thoughts?

the elevators they have These

buttons with no Words on them.

i pRefer not to push.

i went To my compass

and inside i made A

bright Young z axis over north west x y

call me new cardinal Scholar

of strange planes In time

i go to find a new Heat for the needle.

 

A thought on Shelley’s birds

Among the striking sentences in Shelley’s A Defence of Poetry is the following:” A Poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds: his auditors are as men entranced by the melody of an unseen musician, who feel that they are moved and softened, yet know not whence or why”(861).   Several things are working in this sentence that also function in To a Sky-Lark.  Continue reading