This is the time of wonder, it is written;You can find out more about Morris Bishop and his elf-loathing here.
Man has undone the ultimate mysteries.
(We turn from the Chrysler Tower to watch a kitten,
Turn to a dead fish from Isocrates;
Drinkers on five-day boats are gladly smitten
Unconscious on the subjugated seas;
Einstein is even more dull than Bulwer-Lytton;
You cannot smoke on the Los Angeles.)
Science no longer knows the verb-form "can't,"
Fresh meat will soon be shipped by radio;
Scholars are harnessing the urgent ant
And making monstrous bastard fruits to grow,
Building machines for things I do not want,
Discovering truths I do not care to know.
Thursday, August 05, 2010
Scrutable Poetry Corner: "It Rolls On" by Morris Bishop
A poem for the uneasy modern, from the November 1, 1930 issue of The New Yorker.