Onward. . . grinning -- ever grinning.
नमस्ते
'Tis a good excuse, also, to drink in poetry (drowning, perhaps momentarily at least, beneath some haunting waters) -- drawn under, I suppose, by Mr. Williams' sublime, and surprising, prose:
Landscape with the Fall of Icarus
According to
Brueghel
when Icarus fell
it was spring
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sweating in the sun
that melted
the wings wax
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a farmer was
ploughing
his field
the whole pageantry
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Unsignificantly
off the coast
there was
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of the year was
awake tingling
near
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a splash quite unnoticed
this was
Icarus drowning
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the edge of the sea
concerned only
with itself
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-- William Carlos Williams
(1883 to 1963)
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