...not so daily writings
by Wallace Stevens, The Search for Sound Free from Motion All afternoon the gramophone Parl-parled the West Indian weather. The zebra leaves, the sea And it all spoke together. The many-stanzaed sea, the leaves And it spoke all together. But you, you used the word, Your self its honor. All afternoon the gramaphoon, All afternoon the gramaphoon, The world as word, Parl-parled the West-Indian hurricane. The world lives as you live, Speaks as you speak, a creature that Repeats its vital words, yet balances The syllable of a syllable.
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