I suddenly smeared the weekday map splashing paint from a glass; On a plate of aspic I revealed the ocean’s slanted cheek. On the scales of a tin fish I read the summons of new lips. And you could you perform a nocturne on a drainpipe flute?
“The very freedom of “living nobly” seemed to suggest that pleasure and happiness had appeared on the horizon of a humanity freed of its chains. Elegance, politesse, and a new sweetness of manners seemed to prefigure a world in which each man’s freedom could accommodate the equality of all, and in which the vivacity of private passions would not disturb the joys of communal life.”—When the World Spoke French
If I’m destined to become a tsar here,— My men will be told To imprint your darling face, My dear, Onto the nation’s gold. But, if I end up there, Where the tundra swallows the plains,— Where the North Wind with the river bargains,— I will scratch Lily’s name all over the chains And kiss them, laboring in the darkness.