“Undisputed king of the lawyer-poets Wallace Stevens might have gotten his clock cleaned by Ernest Hemingway in an embarrassingly brief restaurant brawl, but he only met one abstraction he couldn't whup: everydayness. "The malady of the quotidian," as he called it, reduced life to a nondescript paralysis, as one's routine eclipses the "dumbly pent" self and a universal conveyor belt outpaces one's ”
