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Young's Farm painted again, without the horses. (Original stolen.)Young's Farm Revisited

Here comes the distance.

At the horizon, distance goes into
a milling machine that grinds up colors
(sky blue, milky clouds, gold and ruby
of fall leaves, pine-needle greens, etc.)
to a fine powder, is placed

on a colorless fluid conveyor belt,
which carries it towards us,
with expert distance technicians
processing it as it passes:

See, for example, in the middle distance,
how the house walls add chunks
of their gray, how the meadows chip in,
umber-shadowed banks adding form,
how that tree on the right, a gold-helmeted
inspector, checks the mauve
against the precise pale purple
of its own shadow (a gauge maintained
in pristine state on its own uncluttered
expanse), and see how the fine tincts
are dissolved and stirred, yet
here and there clot and separate,
then swirl again into the mix...

Ah! Here it comes now, all that soft
diffuse autumn distance, neatly neared,
crispened, energized, chilled and chattered,
almost here, flowing by at our feet--
you can touch it!

Well done, guys, well done! (Here
at Distance, Incorporated, we're a family,
and we're proud of our work!)

Dean Blehert

Last Updated: October 6, 2002

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