2013-12-21

reptile

I think of Wallace Stevens working late in his office on a winter night in Hartford, deliberating over insurance policies from that calm and distant corner of the mind that he probably occupied while working on his poems. Outside is a great big world of loneliness, a night of stars and bell towers. Bricks are cold and hard under your shoes, reminding you that the universe is ancient and indifferent--a reptile that will sleep through your existence.