Eyes dripping blue, so much to learn. - Wallace Stevens

A few things for themselves, Florida, venereal soil, Disclose to the lover.

There will never be an end
To this droning of the surf.

One might have thought of sight, but who could think Of what it sees, for all the ill it sees? Speech found the ear, for all the evil sound, But the dark italics it could not propound. And out of what sees and hears and out Of what one feels, who could have thought to make So many selves, so many sensuous worlds, As if the air, the mid-day air, was swarming With the metaphysical changes that occur, Merely in living as and where we live.