Distribution Automatique

Wednesday, February 18

Notebook: 7/26/86

All beauty may be measured by committment
Not that the sudden and strong may not leap into attention
With wit, verve and gallantry
But what is not with us everyday, as much as we remember,
Is really not yet quite ours again
So the first thing the poet must learn is to wait
And wait and wait
Wait by the rain and by the tides
By the long, lonely thoughts and the heartbroken night
By the chills of indifference and the vanishing words
Of the thoughtless, which ring again and again through

The lonely silence."Return to words" she said
Return to the way they make a thought seem special
To remind you that something best forgotten can still be summoned.
Take for yourself the words that just come
Blurted out to a friend on a bus
Whispered in your mind as you go to bed
As you turn in your seat to hear what is said.