The wandering mind. Pure thought is no thought. I count on this, not a perfect Cartesian understanding, but an imperfect one, that is Jewish. From memory. The mind wandering, the wandered mind. Alarmed by the time. Gypsy intuitions. Leave one room. To let.
'The light in each room of the house is different
but the light of the whole house
Hangs suspended in eternal afternoon.'
Roaming. All roads lead back.
Sure?
Increasingly, you find yourself lost. Marginal notes, as insubstantial as straw in the wind..a kind of freedom is being lost. The frontier, the wilderness has been drawn inwards (Hopper). What's the key, the name that registers in the heart, that takes me straight out of here, north, by north-west?
"Where you goin'?
Nowhere in particular.
"Then hop on in"
The wheels turn, dust rises like a small animal. Your mind begins to wander, your heart hasn't kept apace.
{Photograph: Stephen Shore; lines by K. Irby and Bellow}
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