Marianne Moore "To a Steam Roller"

Marianne Moore’s “To a Steam Roller” has an interesting structure. It consists of three stanzas, each with four lines. Lines one and two of each stanza begin at the same margin, but each stanza’s second line reaches farther right than the first. The third line of each stanza has a slightly indented margin. In stanzas one and three, the third line stretches farther toward the right margin than the lines before it; but the third line of the second stanza is just shy in length to the line above it. The fourth line of each stanza is indented farthest from the left margin. Once again, the first and third stanzas boast their lines in ordered succession towards the right hand margin, but the fourth line of the second stanza ends just before it is able to outstretch the second line.
Rather than looking flatted, as if run over by a steam roller, each stanza looks like its lines have been stacked on top of each other by a forklift. The title floats above the poem, directly in the center of the page. Perhaps the stanzaic structure of the poem is a perfect gift for a steam roller. It would be very tempting for a steam roller to come along and flatten each line into conformity. The title, then, is perhaps like the designation tag on a Christmas present. This gift is for you, steam roller!
As for the content of “To a Steam Roller,” I am reminded of Wallace Stevens’ “The Snow Man.” Lines seven through ten elicit this reaction: “Were not ‘impersonal judgment in aesthetic / matters, a metaphysical impossibility,’ you / / might fairly achieve / it.” This makes me think of Stevens’ challenge to clear the mind of all distractions to achieve an open state of nothingness. It is interesting that a cold, impersonal interpretation of a poem might yield more insight into its meaning that the passionate, empathic understanding of a poem might leave behind. Truth lies in objectivity, but Moore presents a quote that says impersonal objectivity is impossible.
Then there is a shift in the tone of the poem that seems to celebrate this impossibility. To the object that is capable of “impersonal judgment” the speaker warns that “As for butterflies, I can hardly conceive / of one’s attending upon you,” (10-11). The word “butterfly” is specific in its thingness. It brings a concrete image with connotations of beauty--“aesthetic / matters”-- and freedom in its graceful ability to fly. A steam roller can not possibly understand the thingness of a butterfly, but a human certainly can.
The steam roller lacks “half wit” (3). It has a useful function, but it lacks appreciation for its task and for the subjects it flattens. “Sparkling chips of rock,” (5) which bring a glittering image to the mind of a human, “are crushed down to the level of the parent block” (6) by the unsympathetic steam roller.
Perhaps the challenge, then, is not to clear the mind to achieve a state of nothingness. Rather, it is to resist that state of “impersonal judgment,” which reduces the personness of a person until he or she has only the “half wit” of a machine.