days go by.2

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Fermenting, gestating—synergistic liminalities—fission…. Flow again would be a good topic for writing to these luscious early days of summer so filling me with things to say. I want to revel in the pleasure.

I love the phrase “halcyon days,” though mine’s not yet Walt Whitman’s sense of life waning (link to his poem is upcoming).

Yet, I have his “gorgeous, vapory, silent hues cover[ing] the evening sky,” maybe better than yours, Walt; maybe not—no matter.

Yes, “fulness, rest, suffuse the frame, like freshier, balmier air.”

But I have no calm of “turbulent passions” generally, though I’m glad
to sleep easily and well—as the night portends “the…quietest, happiest days of all” to be ahead ”teeming”—to be sometimes “brooding,” yet
to be, too, “blissful”!

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Friday, 6:10 pm

Coincidently—unknown last night—there’s a review of recent books on Whitman in the current issue of The New York Review of Books, not that I’m going to dwell online with that (which I’ve not even read yet—but might next week).

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