Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Hart Crane



The form of my poem rises out of a past that so
overwhelms the present with its worth and vision
that I'm at a loss to explain my delusion that
there exist any real links between that past
and a future worthy of it.

2 comments:

Issa's Untidy Hut said...

Whoa!

Don Stabler said...

it struck me as a dead pidgeon, b ut who cares!