I placed a jar in Tennessee,

And round it was, upon a hill.

It made the slovenly wilderness

Surround that hill.

 

The wilderness rose up to it,

And sprawled around, no longer wild.

The jar was round upon the ground

And tall and of a port in air.

 

It took dominion everywhere.

The jar was gray and bare.

It did not give of bird or bush,

Like nothing else in Tennessee.

 

–Wallace Stevens

 

I object to how it haunts my mind all these years later.  I do not want to always see jars.  Now I will put the book it is in up and hope for relief now that I have written Wallace Stevens words down myself.  (December 6, 2017)