Tomorrow is easy, but today is uncharted,
Desolate, reluctant as any landscape
To yield to what are laws of perspective
After all only to the painter’s deep
Mistrust, a weak instrument though
Necessary. Of course some things
Are possible, it knows, but it doesn’t know
Which ones. Some day we will try
To do as many things as are possible
And perhaps we shall suceed at a handful
Of them, but this will not have anything
To do with what is promised today, our
Landscape sweeping out from us to disappear
On the horizon.Ashbery, John. “Self-Portrait on a Convex Mirror”. Selected Poems. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1985. pp.188-204. vv.151-164 (p192)
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