“They begin!
The perfections are sharpened
The flower spreads its colored petals wide in the sun
But the tongue of the bee misses them
They sink back into the loam crying out
—you may call it a cry
that creeps over them, a shiver as they wilt and disappear ”
—William Carlos Williams, Paterson
“Born down in a dead man’s town. ”
—Bruce Springsteen
