It was not important that [the poems] survive.
What mattered was that they should bear
Some lineament or character,
Some affluence, if only half-perceived,
In the poverty of their words,
Of the planet of which they were part.
—Wallace Stevens, from “The Planet On The Table”
2 comments:
Marvelous, pertinent, true.
...and you've put me in mind of this:
Today the air is clear of everything.
It has no knowledge except of nothingness
And it flows over us without meanings,
As if none of us had ever been here before
And are not now: in this shallow spectacle,
This invisible activity, this sense.
Thanks James. Great blog.
Tom Clark/Beyond the Pale
Vanitas
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