For the listener, who listens in the snow, / And, nothing himself, beholds / Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is. - Wallace Stevens

Behold The approach of him whom none believes, Whom all believe that all believe, A pagan in a varnished car.

Soldier, there is a war between the mind And sky, between thought and day and night. It is For that the poet is always in the sun,<p> Patches the moon together in his room To his Virgilian cadences, up down, Up down. It is a war that never ends.

There was such idiot minstrelsy in rain, So many clappers going without bells, That these bethous compose a heavenly gong. <p> One voice repeating, one tireless chorister, The phrases of a single phrase, ke-ke, A single text, granite monotony