(no subject)
For some reason poetry usually doesn't hook me. Something about not being able to focus on it. I was in the suzzallo library at the UW the other day and randomly polled a book of a shelf called 'The Optical Unconscious be Rosalind E Krauss. I flipped to a random page and found this:
At it's setting the sun had a diminished diameter and an expiring brown, rayless glow, as if millions of centuries elapsing since the morning had brought it near its end. A dense bank of cloud became visible to the northward; it had a sinister dark olive tint, and lay lower and motionless on the sea, resembling a solid obstacle in the path of the ship. She went foundering towards it like an exhausted creature driven to its death... The far-off blackness ahead of the ship was like anther night seen through the starry night of the earth-the starless night of the immensities beyond the created universe, revealed in its appalling stillness through a low fissure in the glittering sphere of which the earth is the kernel.
I like it quite a bit except for the very last word; doesn't seem to fit.
At it's setting the sun had a diminished diameter and an expiring brown, rayless glow, as if millions of centuries elapsing since the morning had brought it near its end. A dense bank of cloud became visible to the northward; it had a sinister dark olive tint, and lay lower and motionless on the sea, resembling a solid obstacle in the path of the ship. She went foundering towards it like an exhausted creature driven to its death... The far-off blackness ahead of the ship was like anther night seen through the starry night of the earth-the starless night of the immensities beyond the created universe, revealed in its appalling stillness through a low fissure in the glittering sphere of which the earth is the kernel.
I like it quite a bit except for the very last word; doesn't seem to fit.