69 What the Wind Hissed A chill gray day and a wind began to blow: Where will you get with that plain water style? Running’s a joke that long since has gone stale, Seascapes were old a century ago. I like plain words, I always have been slow. And the names you drop. Milton of course is vile, And Hemingway! pathetic macho male … And that brute, Robert Frost. I like them, though. Why Santayana? Surely you want Saussure. And Rilke’s missing. Really I much prefer Hardy. He’s fading fast. Herbert? OK … And Homer? Fine. My dirty words? Passé. Here, try a Barthes. Somehow it lacks allure, Such is my hesychastic mood today. 135