i seem to return to certain writers for sustenance. i seem to understand more and in ways so much more novel, every time i eat off their hands. george oppen holds such appeal in these last days because of the manner he points to things & looks at them, holds them in a gaze that is quiet, tender, and not devoid of awe. in fact, the poet is positively startled  at the delicious absurdity of the world. i.e. In the small beauty of the forest/ The wild deer bedding down - /That they are there! and indeed, that the world is there -that it doesn't need us to misshape it, that it resists deformity caused by judgment, is in itself a miracle of sorts. and oppen knows how to pay tribute to that miracle in his works.