As we have seen in "The River of Rivers in Connecticut," Wallace Stevens speaks of the World as a river -- "an unnamed flowing." Of course, this idea is certainly not one that is unique to Stevens. But, for Stevens, the flowing of the World means nothing unless the Imagination is applied to it. Thus, Life consists of two motions: the motion of the World and the motion of the Imagination. Perhaps this is expressed best in the title of one of Stevens's late poems: "Reality Is an Activity of the Most August Imagination."
Whew! How's that for some high-falutin' talk? I don't know what got into me. Enough palaver. The only thing that matters is the poetry. To wit:
An Old Man Asleep
The two worlds are asleep, are sleeping, now.
A dumb sense possesses them in a kind of solemnity.
The self and the earth -- your thoughts, your feelings,
Your beliefs and disbeliefs, your whole peculiar plot;
The redness of your reddish chestnut trees,
The river motion, the drowsy motion of the river R.
Wallace Stevens, The Rock (1954).
And, on the subject of motion, consider this:
The Place of the Solitaires
Let the place of the solitaires
Be a place of perpetual undulation.
Whether it be in mid-sea
On the dark, green water-wheel,
Or on the beaches,
There must be no cessation
Of motion, or of the noise of motion,
The renewal of noise
And manifold continuation;
And, most, of the motion of thought
And its restless iteration,
In the place of the solitaires,
Which is to be a place of perpetual undulation.
Wallace Stevens, Harmonium (1923).