July 2010
9 posts
Emerson
Borges, from Selected Poems
Closing the heavy volume of Montaigne, The tall New Englander goes out Into an evening which exalts the fields. It is a pleasure worth no less than reading. He walks toward the final sloping of the sun, Toward the landscape’s gilded edge; He moves through darkening fields as he moves now Through the memory of the one who writes this down. He thinks: I have read the...
My Daughter, 3, Demonstrates Said Greatness
Me: You're pretty great, you know that?
Her: Yeah, but sometimes I still walk into walls.