It Turned Him into a Verb

I came upon this Marianne Moore poem in a used bookstore in Venice on Sunday. It made me inexplicably excited; I suppose I was thinking about it in relationship to something I was working on in my head.

Above: a bird in the birdbath out back. The sun came out for just a minute yesterday, and the shock of warmth rendered him all but unrecognizable. As Mark said, "It turned him into a verb."

Off to AWP! More from Chicago later today, I hope.

I May, I Might, I Must
Marianne Moore

If you will tell me why the fen
appears impassable, I then
will tell you why I think that I
can get across it if I try.