All beauty, resonance, integrity,
Exist by deprivation or logic
Of strange position. This being so,
We can only imagine a world in which a woman
Walks and wears her hair and knows
All that she does not know. Yet we know
What her breasts are. And we give fullness
To the dream. The table supports the book,
The plume leaps in the hand. But what
Dismal scene is this? the old man pouting
At a black cloud, the woman gone
Into the house, from which the wailing starts?
- John Ashbery
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