on edge

spent some time last night lying on a blanket in the front yard, staring up at the white clouds roiling in interrupted by breaks in dark space. everything was sonogram, sonogram, sonogram. have been reading the tibetan book of living and dying. so the staring at stars trying to ungrasp at life. totally unsuccessful attempt. o my bloggerissimo, i suck at enlightenment. and the nectar ain't forthcoming.

meanwhile, rita roars toward the coast.

Edge
by Michel Deguy
translated by Anne Talvaz

Why this loved formula comes back
“At the edge of the world once more”
What is edge, what is ‘edge’, being on edge
The edge in Baudelaire and
The princes’ terrace in Rimbaud
With a view of the world and all as if
Come and come again