From An Explanation of America:LAIR Robert Pinsky ? Inexhaustible, delicate, as ifWithout source or medium, daylightUndoes the mind; the infinite, Empty actual is too bright,Scattering to where the roadWhispers, through a mile of woods … Later, how quiet the house is:Dusk-like and refined,The sweet Phoebe-note Piercing from the trees;The calm globe of the morning,Things to read or to write Ranged on a table; the brainA dark, stubborn current that breathesBlood, a deaf wadding, The hands feeding it paperAnd sensations of wood or metalOn its own terms. Trying to read I persist a while, finish the recognitionBy my breath of a dead giant's breath--Stayed by the space of a rhythm, Witnessing the blue gulf of the air.
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