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PoemsPassing the south side, His years turning heavier, He did not need the cathedral To warn him of the Last Judgment. Nor was his room
He placed on the table
Deliberately calm,
Nothing remained
The sensuous world had vanished.
He had no hands.
This article is available to subscribers and for individual purchaseSubscribe to TNC (Print and Online editions) Subscribe to TNC (Online only) This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 22 September 2003, on page 37 Copyright © 2012 The New Criterion | www.newcriterion.com http://www.newcriterion.com/articles.cfm/lincoln-norris-1691
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