“…Movement, which "occurs", and is permanent, exists "at the split" between the ground, the "actual earth" whether you hold it to be of value or no, and the trajectory of the turbine it moves over the ground but isn't made of it. (Savage, 2012) The only hope for the old, phenomenal order which exists in place, rather than in the descriptions, the spatial stories, of the turbine, is that Dorn's anger and his occasional viscera have awoken a feeling for it, a sense-memory of sympathy, somewhere in the reader -but he is not hopeful. Although profoundly political, this is not an advocational poem; after all, Dorn has already told us that " it starts of course/ with the finished product" (ll.…”