Elias watched her, annoyed. She moved with the frantic energy of someone who had twenty tabs open in her brain.
Elias closed the library computer. He walked home through the rain, which had become a drizzle, which had become a mist. He did not save the PDF. He did not print it. He simply let the poems exist again, somewhere, for a moment, unlocked and free.
Elias did not own a computer. He walked to the public library, asked the teenager at the desk for help, and together they typed in the address. A black screen. A blinking cursor. He typed the Latin line. The Lice- Poems By W.S. Merwin Download Pdf
“Your absence has gone through me / Like thread through a needle. / Everything I do is stitched with its color.”
That was not from The Lice , he realized. That was Merwin from elsewhere. But it was true, too. Elias watched her, annoyed
“It’s a curse,” Elias said flatly. He opened it. The pages were brittle as dead leaves. He read the first poem aloud, his voice low:
Zoe turned. Her eyes were the color of worn denim. “Because my thesis is on ecological grief in post-war American poetry. And Merwin’s The Lice is the root. It’s the taproot. He wrote it after the Vietnam War, after he saw napalm and clear-cutting, after he stopped using punctuation because he said the world no longer made continuous sense. But you can’t find it. It’s like it’s been erased.” He walked home through the rain, which had
“When you consider the radiance, that it does not withhold itself… but the lice, the lice with their many children, have survived on the dying.”
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