This week I fell over a tiny, two line poem by Ezra Pound called 'In a Station of a Metro', much too short to excerpt as I'm sure the copyright police would tell me. But look for it. It's a small moment of the world but got stuck in there somehow. Here's a portion of 'Portrait d'Une Femme' instead, with a first line that I roll around in my mouth and suck upon for a few minutes.
Your mind and you are our Sargasso Sea,
London has swept about you this score years
And bright ships left you this or that in fee:
Ideas, old gossip, oddments of all things,
Strange spars of knowledge and dimmed wares of price...
Photo source: Pound (with the look of Dylan about him)