Wallace Stevens
Infant, it is enough in lifeTo speak of what you see. But waitUntil sight wakens the sleepy eyeAnd pierces the physical fix of things. — Wallace Stevens, from “The Red Fern,” The Collected Poems of Wallace Stevens (Vintage, 1990)
Day: December 21, 2022
Mary Szybist
At what point is something gone completely? The last of the sunlight is disappearing even as it swells— — Mary Szybist, from “The Troubadours Etc,” Incarnadine: Poems (Graywolf Press, 2013)
Ezra Pound
Exquisite lonelinessBound of mine own capriceI fly on the wings of an unknown chordThat ye hear not,Can not discernMy music is weird and untamedBarbarous, wild, extreme,I fly on the note that ye hear notOn the chord that ye can not dream. — Ezra Pound, from “Anima Sola,” Collected Early Poems (New Directions, 1976) 976)
The Vale of Soul-Making 