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Christopher Wells IN MEMORY OF PINES (22) |
On the
warm shore I frequently sat strewn over with dark hissing. I had formerly come to these pines adventurously, as skyrockets to air, to make my own thread among the gentle worms. At the edge of the water I often hung to a fire, and when done, without companion I would throw the burning nights high and watch them softly descend. They said Soon
everything in the forest was quenched. We were
____ Old-fashioned American Transcendentalism meets modern suburbia/techno-capitalism/urban sprawl in something of a (loving) pastiche of Thoreau. Recommended reading: Walden, Progress and Poverty, Oulipo Compendium. |