![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Sunday Morning
Oct. 2nd, 2011 10:31 amHappy Wallace Stevens' birthday. I am one of the few who still marks the occasion,
I am therefore also one of the few who understands why I am pleased to write this on Sunday morning. For that matter, I'm one of the dwindling number who knows the song by Lou Reed and John Cale, much less the poem by Wallace Stevens.
Look out, the world's behind you. At evening, pigeons make ambiguous undulations as they sink downward to darkness, on extended wings.
I like to hope that newer generations do their own mash-ups like that, with different varieties of high, low, and in between.
I am therefore also one of the few who understands why I am pleased to write this on Sunday morning. For that matter, I'm one of the dwindling number who knows the song by Lou Reed and John Cale, much less the poem by Wallace Stevens.
Look out, the world's behind you. At evening, pigeons make ambiguous undulations as they sink downward to darkness, on extended wings.
I like to hope that newer generations do their own mash-ups like that, with different varieties of high, low, and in between.
