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Stately Pleasure Dome


 

by Robert Walton

November 22, 2005

Summer Morning
Stately Pleasure Dome

Granite smooth
As a woman’s shoulder,
Makes me pause
Within the sky,
Right foot on a good edge,
Left foot on a crystal.
Touched once
By ice,
By persistent
Violence
Only ice
And beauty possess,
Your congruent silkiness
Infers
Ascending geometries
Of perception.
What is beyond ice?
Beyond beauty?
The thought
Entices,
Though the next move
Must be made.


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