Critics Page
UGLY DUCKLING PRESSE
i. Preface, Part I of Love, Delight, and Alarm
Along a plane I wanted to write it:
Where one end is fixed, a loose sun
To the excess of dark I was certain
That certainty’s a kind of excess
A term that’s but a navigating bust
A place to version a limit, feet in foot
When the lute’s sum turns daily
As if by steam one could coordinate
The tulips, too numerous to pinch
By steam the autography of material
Will appear to light the vapor region
So we can know it as if by touch
A nude thing, the masses say
As they re-substantiate again