In the spirit of book appreciation and personally important works, I came across my all-time favorite book by my all-time favorite poet in my basement the other day:
I forgot I squirreled away a first edition years ago. Humour me and read a short poem by Stevens and tell me it isn't beautiful:
Of the Surface of Things
Wallace Stevens - 1879-1955
I
In my room, the world is beyond my understanding;
But when I walk I see that it consists of three or four
hills and a cloud.
II
From my balcony, I survey the yellow air,
Reading where I have written,
"The spring is like a belle undressing."
III
The gold tree is blue,
The singer has pulled his cloak over his head.
The moon is in the folds of the cloak.
Last edited by Pochsy (2020-05-08 15:58:46)
The shape of an eye in front of the ocean, digging for stones and throwing them against its window pane. Take it down dreamer, take it down deep. - Other Families