In a Lonely Place on 10-20-2019

Reading a book Harold Bloom edited on Wallace Stevens today as I thought of this seemingly endless experiment: “Stevens was writing a poetry of the mind in the act of finding, losing, looking, finding, and losing the sufficient. The process is endless and essentially goal-less. The wandering mind is observed, even indulged….” And then Stevens, as I searched for meaning within the frame: “Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake.”⠀