A ray of light, to an oblique observer,
Remains invisible in pure dry air;
But shone into a turbid element
It throws distracting side-gleams everywhere
And is diminished by what takes the eye.
So poetry that moves by chance collision
Scatters its brightness at each random mote
And mars the lucid order of its vision.
The purest meditation will appear
Faint or invisible to those who glance
Obliquely at its unreflected beam;
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This Gentleman was a Conservative
From guest John Philip Johnson (contact)
You can see why he didn't want Robert Creeley to come to Tasmania. (according to Robert Adamson) (or was it Duncan he blocked?) johnphilipjohnson.com lincoln, nebraska, usa
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