This third time you see them, there they are, all towering stone and wrought figures, some very human, some quite abstract representational polygons, full of whatever amount of symbolic subtext.
eemingly there from the outset of time, meaning all of hese things that they will forever embody.
Lincoln 's bearded visage over time starts to become a pretty tedious stone representation of Lincoln 's bearded visage.
After a little more time, the monuments become background and are ncapable of being seen at all, and later when you do revisit them, to try to see them again, they evoke very little in terms of inspiration or feeling.
That 's how I think of Eliot 's poems, even the best ones, which in my opinion are The Hollow Men and The Four Quartets.
I think Frank O'Hara is a better write than T.S. Eliot.
But O'Hara 's work possesses elements that I find fundamentally lacking in Eliot 's: humorous melancholy, strange language that manages to stay alive beyond multiple readings, amateurishness ( which is important), willingness to sound ridiculous, or even superfluous at times, in the search of the oblique sentiment that is inexactly, perfectly human.