Spare us, O Lord, the taint of any improvement

So why not, indeed, try something new?

Actually, I can think of a number of reasons. 

Wait - suddenly I can't think of any!

The present is here, its birds and bees,

fons et origo of life, folie de toucher

that infects even the civilised classes -

none of these are a reason to 'start with' life,

though some are undeniably a veiled warning

back from the precipice where love dwells

along with fetishism and nympholepsy.

      No need for these not to cohabit as long as the horses

      can stand it.

       Downtown was mesmerised

       another year. Just who are these strangers

       who come on so strong?

Yet it is good to remember

one's humble origins, and reflect

on how we came to look this way.

What were we thinking all along? Who charted

this anxious mappemonde, barren of side roads

and identity crises?

There comes a time when the fleece

fills your mouth, but there was so much left to say.

John Ashbery

A Worldly Country

  Imperfect Sympathies

op. cit.