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Out of Egypt:Halfway to the Promised Land"God is a place you will wait for the rest of your life." |
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February 3, 2004
An Open Letter to Wallace Stevens
Dear Wallace, why must I have a mind of winter? Why is the nothing that is not there In these hands that hold the spring?
Ripening fruit shall hang here, unrepentant
Awaiting the Beloved, redolent of spice.
Anoiting oil on my ashes,
He makes me drink of Paradise.
Here life shall stir in stock and stone,
Deep roots yet untouched by the frost.
Well spent thy wind, still some birds sing.
Posted by donovan at 8:19 PM | Category: Writing
Get me your summary!
Posted by: mcgee at February 3, 2004 11:40 PM
Evan, have you seen the Film Club's short adaptation of Wallace Stevens's "Anecdote of the Jar"? It's quite remarkable...
Posted by: Tyler at February 6, 2004 6:55 PM
No, but I'd love to. Naked people writhing in agony...mmm. And how about that movie that you guys made last year? I'd like to see that sometime too.
Posted by: Evan Donovan at February 8, 2004 12:15 PM
Is there any way to see this adaptation of Anecdote? Does it speak in heavenly labials? With a blessed rage for order?
Posted by: John at February 9, 2004 12:15 AM