John Ashbery
[Poet and critic, b. 1927, Rochester, New York, d. 2017, Hudson, New York.]

 I feel the carousel starting slowly

And going faster and faster: desk, papers, books,

Photographs of friends, the window and the trees

Merging in one neutral band that surrounds

Me on all sides, everywhere I look.
  
 For although memories, of a season, for example,
Melt into a single snapshot, one cannot guard, treasure
That stalled moment. It too is flowing, fleeting;

It is a picture of flowing, scenery, though living, mortal,
Over which an abstract action is laid out in blunt,

Harsh strokes.