The forms
of the emotions are crystalline,
geometric faceted. So we recognize
only in the white heat of
understanding, when a flame
runs through the gap made
by learning, the shapes of things--
the ovoid sun, the pointed trees
lashing branches
The wind is fierce, lashing
the long-limbed trees whose
branches
wildly toss--
William Carlos Williams "April" from Della Primavera Trasportata al Morale (1930)
