Industrial cultures package and process their food in a similar way, so that it often appears synthetic. In these conditions, verse often lingers in a minor role, more or less on a par with pets and house plants. Linguistic expertise may flourish, but knowing - or the kind of knowing that poetry is - flees to the interstices and edges of such cultures,
where other undomesticated creatures are also to be found. Motion, in cultures of the machine, tends to become an end in itself, and it is rarely to the tune of being. in these conditions, poetry hides.
