Sit with Wallace Stevens in my garden, drinking coffee & cloud spotting, in this poem from The Wallace Variations.
Coffee with Wallace
Look at this coffee pot,
it is metallic, figure of a dancer;
warm when acted upon, but cold.
Light distracts its mirrored face,
a design half-inched from a hall of mirrors,
to show us to ourselves, alternately.
The other day it was very windy,
the metallic coffee pot rattled a wooden spoon,
or did the wooden spoon rattle it?
i wanted it to whistle— it wasn’t a day for whistling.
When the wind fell apart, Wallace & i
took the pot into the parcelled garden
& as we sipped hot coffee all the stupid
afternoon, we shaped metaphors with passing clouds.