As We Know

By John Ashbery

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Rudeness, shabbiness— lets have submit with greater than a bit of those within the wish of having a few bed-rest, yet a measured calm, maddening in Its insularity, constantly prevailed on the window, Priming the hour with suffering, and but It used to be by no means any later, there has been by no means something extra to do, everyone stored telling you to sit back until eventually you have been able to scream, And now this sufferer evening has infused, In whose folds just one soul is wakeful, within the complete huge international. Feeling no use to examine the area via rose-colored glasses, To get by way of on “cuteness,” To create huge new types and other people them with area, You thwart any instructions, wrong or right. The séduction de l’âme won't occur. The lengthy rains in November, November Of lengthy rains, silent woods, Open like a compass to obtain the paradox, Press it again into the damp earth, The shadow of a whisper on someone’s lips. you could neither outline Nor erase it, and, obvious by way of torchlight, Being cloaked with the shrill Savage material of non-being, it sticks out within the firelight. it's greater than whatever used to be intended to be. but someway mournful, as if The 3-dimensional impact have been accomplished on the price of a crisp vagueness That raised one twig just a little larger than the Morass of leafless branches that supported it, And now, keen, fatigued, it had sunk again lower than the commonly pleasing Contours of the remainder. It had eaten The foodstuff you gave it, and saved to itself in most cases, in a nook of the pen. You by no means spoke to it other than within the kindest Tones, and it answered unfortunately, If a bit of with courtesy, and what sort of, now you would like you had saved a list of these exchanges! something is bound: not anything Can exchange it; as fatally because it was once given to you, so now it's been faraway from you, on your convenience, And not anything stands instead. it's not a query of vacancy, in simple terms Of a spot the others by no means appear to enterprise, A sunken Parnassus. there's a mild switch, an opportunity particularly Of its coming to existence on the reunion, Amid the automated greetings, summonses From a brazen tongue: “And so that you suggestion this was once the place he introduced you, the up to date silhouette, past due sun constructed at the tallest slope, to the assignation Rumored so usually, to a corral formed like a snowflake, and love Blurring all of the issues. but you Stand quickly and can't see the place it really is top. And the seducer continues to be at domestic. ” but whereto, with broken wing Assay th’empyrean? Scalloped horizon Of Cloud-Cuckoo-Land? O land Of lately boiling water, witches’ Misgivings, ships Pulling clear of piers, Already slipping deep into the norm Of blue worsted seas? but that's simply what I did. There are continually those that imagine you need to flip again from boring autumn sunsets like whey within the breeze that escorts Us up prone planes whose visual appeal, boring too at the beginning, is skilled as though bathed in magic, whilst its density, “A flash of lightning, noticeable in passing and extremely faintly,” Stuns the apprehending schools With the perfection of its hope just like the scream of the emerging moon.

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