Picture ThousandThis is one of my favorite poems. It is concise, beautiful and not exactly vague but rather elusive. I have always pictured it as a snapshot of a blank face in a crowd - as Eliot puts it in the context of London Bridge stealing a line from Dante "I had not thought death had undone so many." The alternate picture I have in my head is a blank petal frailly melting into the black bough. The photograph shown here throws way too much color upon my modern view, but I enjoy the perspective and any chance to discuss "In a Station of the Metro"

Thanks Alex -- I think there's a lot said in just a few short lines, and I find that I gravitate toward and identify more with succinct poetry than epic length works. I would have liked to get a saturated view of a lone blush petal on a branch, but alas pale blank blossoms are out of season by about a week here. In any case, I saw this along the road today and these lines kept repeating.

undeniably luscioushoodwinked mindrefreshed in an instance

2 versions by PoundPound wrote this 2 ways, and the first version is spaced very differently than the posted version.But this posting system deletes all the spaces no matter how I insert them. Well, if someone can post the other version, it would be nice to compare them.Also, Pound wrote 2 different essays explaining why and how he wrote this poem, but he never explained the spacing. I like the first one better. How 'bout you?