One of the best things about being back in class last semester was not necessarily the subject matter (although that was pretty excellent), but the asides: the offhand remarks, the meanders, and the digressions that probably drove some students nuts, but for me were like tossing Godiva chocolates to someone who's been on the Atkins diet. My Bible as Lit professor was particularly good at this. One day he brought in a poem by A. R. Ammons, of whom I was unaware, that was essentially fifteen lines of subordinate clause that eventually turn on the final phrase: "...fear lit by the breadth of such calmly turns to praise." It's a wonderful poem-- "City Limits" -- which you can find by googling if you are so inclined.

Which led me to further reading of Ammons, which led to these lines, which are my new epigraph for this blog:

...well, I learn a lot of useless stuff, meant
to be ignored: like when the sun sinking in the
west glares a plane invisible, I think how much

revelation concealment necessitates: and then I
think of the ocean, multiple to a blinding
oneness and realize that only total expression

expresses hiding: I'll have to say everything
to take on the roundness and withdrawal of the deep dark:
less than total is a bucketful of radiant toys.

from "Cut the Grass" - A. R. Ammons

AB