Science

Man, introverted man, having crossed
In passage and but a little with the nature
    of things this latter century
Has begot giants; but being taken up
Like a maniac with self-love and inward conflicts
    cannot manage his hybrids.
Being used to deal with edgeless dreams,
Now he’s bred knives on nature turns them also inward:
    they have thirsty points though.
His mind forebodes his own destruction;
Actaeon who saw the goddess naked among leaves
    and his hounds tore him.
A little knowledge, a pebble from the shingle,
A drop from the oceans: who would have dreamed
    this infinitely little too much?


Read more poems by Robinson Jeffers