Fairfield Porter in a letter to Aline Porter, Christmas Day, 1951
I saw four, maybe five
lightning bolts, and then
a man walked by with a chair.
He was sure, one hundred percent
sure of what he was doing.
He didn’t sit on the chair.
A ghost did. The ghost explained everything,
and everything was perfectly clear.
Our potent mix of disgust and desire
Having seen all that it touched,
I see why they call it withering