Tonight I was reading Robert Hass, and his excellent (supremely excellent) Heroic Simile and Mediation at Lagunitas. I recognized a sound and form of thought I've been seeking in my own work. There is something to be said for allowing the imagination to merge with the intellect without worrying about rationality or making sense, because in the end, upon review, what ends up on the page makes perfect sense, and in a stunning manner!
I realized tonight that making art is an act of love, maybe not unlike my daughter lining her dolls up in a row. In my private notes on aesthetics, I scribbled a thought down about how poetry is a form of choreography, and the items and ideas of the world are set dancing to the music of their names. This rings so true, as crystal clear as a bell.
This strikes me as an important understanding, important as it was to recognize art's defamiliarizing ability, its ability to refresh the world in my eyes. For not only will I regard it all anew, but now also feel connected to all of it.
Bedtime. Hora somni. Gute nacht.