Singing of Niagara, and the Huron squaws,
The chaise longue, the periwinkles in a rage like snow,
Dillinger like a dark wind.
Intelligence, cover the advertising men with clear water,
And the factories with merciless space,
So that the strong-haunched woman
By the blazing stove of the sun, the moon,
May come home to me, sitting on the naked wood
In another world, and all the Shell stations
Folded in a faint light.
The Possibility of New Poetry
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