A poem moves forward, br Like the passages and percussions of trains in progress br A pattern of recurrence, a hammer of repetetiveoccurrence br br a slow less and less heard br low thunder under all passengers br br Steel sounds tripping and tripled and br Grinding, revolving, gripping, turning, and returning br as the flung carpet of the wide countryside spreads out on br each side in billows br br And in isolation, rolled out, white house, red barn, squat silo, br Pasture, hill, meadow and woodland pasture br And the striped poles step fast past the train windows br Second after second takes snapshots, clicking, br Into the dangled boxes of glinting windows br Snapshots and selections, rejections, at angles, of shadows br A small town: a shop's sign - GARAGE, and then white gates br Where waiting cars wait with the unrest of trembling br Breathing hard and idling, until the slow~descent br Of the red cones of sunset: a dead march: a slow tread and heavy br br Of the slowed horses of Apollo br - Until the slowed horses of Apollo go over the horizon br And all things are parked, slowly or willingly, br into the customary or at random places.