Monday, October 13, 2008

if your only tool is poetry, all your problems look like

And the sublime comes down
To the spirit itself,
The spirit and space,
The empty spirit
In vacant space.
What wine does one drink?
What bread does one eat?

Wallace Stevens
The American Sublime

2 comments:

vivir vino veritas said...

wow, somebody sent me that poem yesterday!

vivir vino veritas said...

(crazy synchronicity)