June 13 – 2015

June13-2015Excerpt from Elizabeth Bishop’s Crusoe in England

A new volcano has erupted,

the papers say, and last week I was reading

where some ship saw an island being born:

at first a breath of steam, ten miles away;

and then a black fleck– basalt, probably–

rose in the mate’s binoculars

and caught on the horizon like a fly.

They named it. But my poor old island’s still

un-rediscovered, un-renamable.

None of the books has ever got it right.


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