On the other hand it seems entirely possible
That expression comes too easily
That feelings must ripen or rather
Petrify a bit before one commits them to writing

On the other hand it seems entirely likely
That what what matters is the facticity of form
As the architectonics of Paradise Lost
And the Ode to Autumn assert

On a completely different hand it seems possible
That had not Milton suffered as an exile in time
He would never have dreamed as he really dreamed
Of objectivities in the refuge of eternity

And had not Keats experienced directly his own death
He would never have endeavored
To detail with diagrammatic precision
The subjectivity of space vacant of his own presence

And I remember the boy and the bomb
The womangirl in the kimono and out of it
The birth and the afterbirth
The shocks and the aftershocks