is in the rhythm of my life today.
A friend had a verse of his appended to her email and upon reading it I was suddenly still and focused. I know, the juxtaposition of twenty-first century email and the verse of great, troubled poets such as Rilke sets up a kind of dissonance. But today is filled with such dissonance, and it’s here that I live, and no other place.
After a time I went in search of another verse, and found: “Slowly the evening changes into the clothes held for it by a row of ancient trees.” (from the poem Evening, translated by Cliff Crego). I plan work by the cadence of this, and wait for the night.