el Banq-o (but can you still make deposits...)
Stars, hide your fires;
Let not light see my black and deep desires;
The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be
Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.
-- MB:I.iv

I drove three blocks past the entrance to work before I realized it was 8:10 and I'd ought to turn around. Blown by morning zephyr toward gentle sun low between clouds I sailed, smiling over asphalt. Blame it on loud music. If I left at seven I could stay with Fig & co. tonight and be at Amy's in Brooklyn in time for breakfast... but the tupperware car would never make it and I'm broke and too staid for wandering the desert. Neither the statue down the airshaft nor John with his visions; this morning I feel like Thomas Mann's dilettante in full-blown dither mode.

* * *

[for the filedrawer:]
Great art chills us at first by its coldness, or its strangeness, by what seems capricious; and yet it is from these qualities it has authority, as though it had fed on locusts and wild honey.
[and]
And yet
No one denies to Keats love of the world;
Remember his deliberate happiness.

-- W.B. Yeats