It’s not the word made flesh we want in writing, in poetry and fiction, but the flesh made word.
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It’s not the word made flesh we want in writing, in poetry and fiction, but the flesh made word.
“When first I saw thee ‘neath the silver mist,
Ruling thy bark of painted sandal-wood,
Did any know thee? By the golden sails
That clasped the ribbands of that azure sea,
Did any know thee save my heart alone?
O ivory woman with thy bands of gold,
Answer the song my luth and I have brought thee!”
Ezra Pound | “Canzon: The Vision”