For although memories, of a season, for example,
Melt into a single snapshot, one cannot guard, treasure
That stalled moment. It too is flowing, fleeting;
It is a picture of flowing, scenery, though living, mortal,
Over which an abstract action is laid out in blunt,
~John Ashbery, poet *
*If you missed my post the other day about Ronnie’s sestina, it’s still there. And included is a sestina by the very same poet, John Ashbery. It seems I’m hip-deep in Baader-Meinhof yet again, the phenomenon I wrote about here.