I'D LIKE TO VISIT SHILLINGTON
It's an old farm town, where John Updike
grew up - nothing so much as anything,
but a place I'd like to see. It doesn't really
exist, except in my memory as translated
through his stories - 'Of the Farm' and
'Poorhouse Fair.' Perhaps they merely
but are not there? Pennsylvania seems
full of such places : spectral grounds
where cemeteries haunt; names and
images ground in stone.
-
I still wonder. About me, about him.
About places we grind out of nothing
and make solid, and somehow real.
Does it have an old diner? Is the
river there real?
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