Yet can I really escape it? How much of my creative life is now affected by it, how many poems has the insidious smog crept its way into? Too many. When I come around, through the train window ...

Some 50 years later, “the poem turned up again” and lo ... I recognized a Heidegger reference: “I am,/in these moments, at the center of the world worlding.” I might have passed right ...