The vulgate of experience. Of this,
A few words, and and yet, and yet, and yet --
As part of the never-ending meditation,
-Wallace Stevens
Back at home in Pennsylvania for the day. The first day of spring and feels like it (sun, wind). The truth of the matter is, nobody needs more than this, not really: a peaceful neighborhood in a peaceful town with trees on the sidewalks and paved roads and some old buildings. Contrary to my own romantic understanding of human nature, I’m forced to admit that people want stability and stasis, the ability to pass on their lives to their children, to have something that's theirs—and not much else, not really. The American sublime emerges out of this framework of the ordinary and the pleasant; that's always been the message of American poetry, going back to Emerson and Whitman.