Sunday Morning

I want to be an integral part of your Sunday morning.

I want you to nose about over breakfast, see what's happening in the world.

I want this place to be a part of that world. Or this place.

So I can tell you what the Ouija Board told Merrill, or what problems with heroism told Becker, or what the eye told Stevens.

Paul Simon could gather all the news he needed from the weather report. What if the most important news you read all week was a bit of verse, a scrap of philosophy?

The words in your head are the weather of your days. And you can rewrite them at will.

This idea is old, but it's still a radical notion.

Wittgenstein started and ended his famous Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus by saying "Die Welt is alles, was der Fall ist." The world is everything that is the case.

What is relevant. At hand. Not passive objects. Facts. Bits of meaning.

Merrill unpacks this. "Open the case."

In Stevens' poem "Sunday Morning" he asks, "What is divinity if it can come / Only in silent shadows and in dreams?"

But also "in contentment I still feel / The need of some imperishable bliss."

This is perhaps the oldest of radical notions.