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  • The Night Sky as a Blue Denim Book Bag
  • Susan Stewart

—for Richard Macksey

November, 2010

"Read Simmel," you said, and I thoughtIt was an adverb, a style and not a person.Change would always get going once the lessonHad a little time to sink into the thick.At last I caught the nuance in the tenor"Read slowly," you said—"helas!Don't worry, no need to hurry."

Men smoked pipes in those days, their prose sharpAnd their elbows padded.Curiosity had its cats. The insomniac traced aKindness, a koine, to its crazedSource text on Gach's dusty shelf.

Everything belongs to the wondering self.

You jumped into a dumpster to save a poem        about apples, while                the Pleiades dangled                        helpfully, unbound,                                above the harbor.

        Everything belongs to the wondering self.        A style becomes a person. [End Page 1020]

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