Tuesday, December 4, 2012

No Rest for the Idle By Kay Ryan

The idle are shackled
to their oars. The waters
of idleness are borderless
of course and must always
be piled. Relief is foreign
on this wide and featureless ocean. There are no details:
No shores, no tides, no times,
when things lift up and then
subside, no sails or smoke stacks,
no gravel gathered up and spit back,
no plangencies, no seabirds startled;
the weather, without the Matthew Arnold.

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