Once I realized that there are a lot of long poems here, I thought maybe a short one would be fun.
In a Station of the Metro
Ezra Pound
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
So, the first line just runs, skipping and iambic. The second just drops, stagnant. One is motion, the other is stagnation. Of all the times I've looked at this poem, this last time is the first time I saw that. Just a reminder to read everything twice. Or, like, three hundred times.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
i read this in my english 302 class spring 06...i love it.
Post a Comment