From Park to Air

Yesterday was an exploration, and lovely. Today is another. One requires distance, the other the inwardness that leads to fear, which is hope, which is inevitably vulnerable and precious. Anyway. I'm leaving the BQE for a little while but will carry the noise in my ears (and hope that others can pick up some trash while I'm gone).

Yesterday, I was reminded of how much I like certain lines of Wallace Stevens, and, today, these must suffice for everything I've run out of time to say (precisely why I'm always late...):

"After the final no there comes a yes
And on that yes the future world depends.
No was the night. Yes is this present sun.
If the rejected things, the things denied,
Slid over the western cataract, yet one,
One only, one thing that was firm, even
No greater than a cricket's horn, no more
Than a thought to be rehearsed all day, a speech
Of the self that must sustain itself on speech,
One thing remaining, infallible, would be
Enough. Ah! Sweet countrside of that thing..."