Eggs
and
Peacocks:
Elaine Kim
Poetry
Yoon Jung Min
Illustration
Or,
When Ezra
Pound Ate
Tulip
What, an old marble slab, Yeats there stood.
airbrushed men in a lingophallic feast, spectacles
falling to the bridge of the nose; to nosedive
into that smorgasbord onto the full plumage of
the rubber Nordic trees.
the cocky strain with which Flint cracked open a peanut, like an egg, the flesh swimming around its
rubbery shell. Everything was rubber. Rubbish
Pound would call it, and for him to riddle the ground
and nudge a cloud of tulips--was
to bluntly open
the eye of an unconquered flame
un vortice che affonda
54
and then all things hollow
55