Why NOT "A screaming comes across the sky"?

[David Casseres]

On 8/27/06, robinlandseadel at comcast.net <robinlandseadel at comcast.net> wrote:
> "A way a lone a last a loved a long the"
>  -------------- Original message ----------------------
> From: Paul Mackin <paul.mackin at verizon.net>
> What about the importance of last lines? Nobody ever talks about these.
>


And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

--

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

--

He star'd at the Pacific - and all his men
Look'd at each other with a wild surmise -
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.

--

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

--

For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.

--

The Mariner, whose eye is bright,
Whose beard with age is hoar,
Is gone : and now the Wedding-Guest
Turned from the bridegroom's door.
He went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn :
A sadder and a wiser man,
He rose the morrow morn.


I guess that tells you what long-ago class made an impression on me.  But also:


preponderatingly because
unless statistics lie he was
more brave than me:more blond than you.

--

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea	
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.	

--

... and all the queer little streets and the pink and blue and yellow houses and
the rosegardens and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and
Gibraltar as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the
rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and
how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as
another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he
asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my
arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts
all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will
Yes.

--

and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in
the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the
suffering of America's naked mind for love into
an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone
cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio
with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered
out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand
years.


[that last being the less-famous ending of Howl]