Sunday, October 24, 2010

Is this a genealogy poem?

Wallace Stevens, "A Postcard from the Volcano":

Children picking up our bones
Will never know that these were once
As quick as foxes on the hill;

And that in autumn, when the grapes
Made sharp air sharper by their smell
These had a being, breathing frost;

If you can't find your copy of Stevens (why not?), the rest is here.

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