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And just as there are no words for the surface, that is, No words to say what it really is, that it is not Superficial but a visible core, then there is No way out of the problem of pathos vs. experience.

John Ashbery

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John Ashbery
Age: 90 †
Born: 1927
Born: July 28
Died: 2017
Died: September 3
Journalist
Poet
University Teacher
Writer
Rochester
New York
G'on Ashberi
John Ashberry
Jonas Barry
Jon Asshuberī
John Lawrence Ashbery
John Ashbery
Way
Superficial
Visible
Core
Surface
Words
Experience
Problem
Really
Pathos

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Some certified nut Will try to tell you it's poetry, (It's extraordinary, it makes a great deal of sense) But watch out or he'll start with some New notion or other.
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Not until it starts to stink does the inevitable happen.
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And we may be led, then, upward through more Powerful forms of poetry, past columns With peeling posters on them, to the country of indifference. Meanwhile if the swell diapasons, blooms Unhappily and too soon, the little people are nonetheless real.
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I like poems you can tack all over with a hammer and there are no hollow places.
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A perfect example of the new republic's urge to drape itself with the togas of classical respectability.
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There is the view that poetry should improve your life. I think people confuse it with the Salvation Army.
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The poem is sad because it wants to be yours, and cannot be.
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Extreme patience and persistence are required, Yet everybody succeeds at this before being handed The surprise box lunch of the rest of his life.
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Therefore bivouac we On this great, blond highway, unimpeded by Veiled scruples, worn conundrums. Morning is Impermanent. Grab sex things, swing up Over the horizon like a boy On a fishing expedition.
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I don't look on poetry as closed works. I feel they're going on all the time in my head and I occasionally snip off a length.
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Imagine a painter crucified by his subject!
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You stupefied me. We waxed, Carnivores, late and alight In the beaded winter. All was ominous, luminous.
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