On Anne Carson's Plainwater

I'm reading too fast. I know I am. And in all the wrong places too: on the MRT, with Spiritualized on my discman, with the TV on. I'm running too fast to hear the words. Sometimes you enjoy a poem just because, and sometimes you find a poem that rings through you like a bell. And sometimes, sometimes, you find a poem that is both. It seems something that ought to mentioned. And given thanks for.