We have read of an image ,of a certain woman
Who had swum with the poet as girl in a beach
With girl breasts, now a whore in Oxford street.
Images are visible, hard and tangible in rain.
At once  visual and  tactile, these  images rise
As abrupt dunes on plain-speak,bush and sand.

It would not matter the girl was what and when
Her space notwithstanding, time in her pocket.
That is where it is ticking away, in  a blind curve
Like the river in eternal bind in the mountains
Curving away in a bend under the sleeping trees.
Our images are real, belonging to this very space.

(Imagism was a movement in early 20th-century Anglo-American poetry that favored precision of imagery and clear, sharp language and was described as the most influential movement in English poetry since the activity of the Pre-Raphaelites. The Imagists rejected the sentiment and discursiveness typical of much Romantic and Victorian poetry:Wikipedia)


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