As the story goes, Pound originally wrote this as a thirty-line poem, and then edited it down to just the two. I love this poem; Pound says everything he needs to in just a few short words, painting a crystal clear image of the many faces in the ultimately faceless crowd like scattered flower petals. At the same time I find he perfectly invokes the feeling of being in an underground station, and I can almost feel myself surrounded by the black wetness as he describes it. Pure imagism at its finest.
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
this poem was selected by Brian Skulnik, w.c. staff.