Among Dickinson's Late Papers is a manuscript--one text, several
texts?--especially marked by the signs of flight. The manuscript,
here identified by its catalog number A 821, constitutes a kind
of exit-text. It may have been composed in a few minutes, or even
seconds, in the early spring of 1885, since one line of the text
re-appears, slightly altered, in three fair-copy drafts of a letter
composed by Dickinson to Helen Hunt Jackson in March of that year,
but apparently never completed or mailed. In Thomas H. Johnson's
The Letters of Emily Dickinson (1958), it is annexed to these drafts as a footnote. Its provenance,
as well as the date of its composition, however, remain unconfirmed.
I found it first by accident, in the Amherst College Library,
when it fell (rose?) out of an acid-free envelope, out of the
space of claustration. If I had not held it lightly in my hands,
I would never have suspected the manner in which it was assembled.
Although its brevity and immediacy place it outside the reach
of conventional classifactory gestures, it bears a striking affinity
to the genre David Porter names "small, rickety infinitudes.">1 Look at it now, flying on the screen/page, vying with light:
"Faraway, so Close!"
--Wim Wenders >2