Fugue
You see them vanish in their speeding cars,
The many people hastening through the world,
And wonder what they would have done
This time of time speed distance, random
Of molecules hastened by what rising heat?
Was there never a world where people just sat still?
Yet they might be all of them
Of a timeless now, drivers and
In the moving cars all facing to the
Which is the future, which is destiny,
Which is desire and desire's end - What are they doing but just sitting still?
And still at speed they fly away, as still As the road paid out beneath them as it
Moment by moment into the mirrored past;
They spread in their wake the parading fields of food,
The windowless works where who is making what,
The grey towns where the wishes and the fears are done.
Howard Nemerov was born on February 29th, 1920 in New York.
He died of cancer at his home in University City,
Missouri on July 5th 1991.
Howard Nemerov
Другие работы автора
Gyroscope
This admirable gadget, when it Wound on a string and spun with steady force, Maintains its balance on most any Surface, pleasantly humming as it goes
To D— Dead By Her Own Hand
My dear, I wonder if before the end You ever thought about a children’s game— I’m sure you must have played it too—in which You ran along a narrow garden wall Pretending it to be a mountain ledge So steep a snowy darkness fell away On either ...
The Murder Of William Remington
It is true, that even in the best-run state Such things will happen; it is true, What’s done is done The law, whereby we hate Our hatred, sees no fire in the flue But by the smoke, and not for thought alone It punishes, but for the thing...
Reading Pornography in Old Age
Unbridled licentiousness with no holds barred, Immediate and mutual lust, In the heat, upon demand, aroused And satisfied again, lechery unlimited