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Charles Olson -
The Maximus poems (1953)
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This morning of the small snow I count the blessings, the leak in the faucet which makes of the sink time, the drop of the water on water.
What can we do
when even the public conveyances
how can we go anywhere,
how get out of anywhere
Whatever you have to say, leave The roots on, let them Dangle And the dirt Just to make clear Where they come from.
There are no hierarchies, no infinite, no such many as mass, there are only/ eyes in all heads,/ to be looked out of.
I have had to learn the simplest things last. Which made for difficulties.
One loves only form, and form only comes into existence when the thing is born.
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