Bill Murray Reads Wallace Stevens

this is a poem by Wallace Stevens called the planet on the table Arielle was glad he had written his poems they were of a remembered time or of something seen that he liked other makings of the Sun were waste and welter and the ripe shrub arrived his self and the Sun were one and his poems although makings of his self were no less makings of the Sun it was not important that they survived what mattered was that they should bear some liniment some affluence if only half perceived in the poverty of their words of the Planet of which they were part here's another one of Stevens called titled I guess a rabbit as king of the ghosts the difficulty to think at the end of day when the shapeless shadow covers the Sun and nothing is left except light on your fur there was the cat slopping its milk all day fat cat read tongue green mind white milk an August the most peaceful month to be in the grass in the peaceful esteem without that monument of cat the cat forgotten in the moon and to feel that the light is a rabbit light in which everything is meant for you and nothing need be explained then there is nothing to think of it comes of itself and east rushes west and west rushes down no matter the grass is full and full of yourself the trees around are for you the whole of the wideness of night is for you a self that touches all edges you become a self that fills the four corners of night the Redcat hides away in the FIR light and there you are pumped high pumped up you are humped higher and higher blackest stone you sit with your head like a carving in space and the little green cat is a bug in the grass you

Channel: Poets House

Views: 81,397

Rating: 4.9648609 out of 5

Keywords: Bill Murray, Poetry, Wallace Stevens, Poem

Id: GaT_2cL33R4

Length: 4min 54sec (294 seconds)

Published: Wed Jul 11 2012