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em ty
I stumbled across this post today on a weblog written by Ron Silliman, a modern poet of sorts. Its about an interesting genre of poetry know as pwoermds (a blending of “words” and “poems”). Given Mike’s recent post, I don’t think he’d like a poem like: by Jonathan Brannen laugnage But, maybe? Truly, this tiny…
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Mnemosyne
Mnemosyne by Trumbull Stickney It’s autumn in the country I remember. How warm a wind blew here about the ways! And shadows on the hillside lay to slumber During the long sun-sweetened summer-days. It’s cold abroad the country I remember. The swallows veering skimmed the golden grain At midday with a wing aslant and limber;…
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I’m feeling neglected
Just thought you should know. Ye weep for those who weep? she said— Ah, fools! I bid you pass them by. Go, weep for those whose hearts have bled What time their eyes were dry. Whom sadder can I say? she said. —from “The Mask” by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Thanks, Mike, for that post.
Thanks, Mike, for that post. I enjoyed it very much. I’d like to launch a few brief volleys on the topic of death. First, I, myself, don’t make the leap to permanence when I think about how death bears on question of whether life is meaningful. I don’t think life would only be meaningful if…
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Silence and the Bogey of the Ideal
There were two points of discussion today (neither drawing directly from the poems we discussed, unfortunately) that I’d like to ruminate for a bit. We ate together—I hope you’ll pardon me this bit of public digestion. The first was Alan’s suggestion that some people believe poetry to be handicapped as a form of expression because…
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Snippets
From my law school applications: Lines Written Upon Reading the Caption Below a Picture of Natalie Portman with Her Hand Down the Back of Her Jeans, which Said Something about Ants in Her Pants by Me, Unfortunately Let us make haste, depart ; she will not dance. Let us quaff our drinks and leave for…
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This makes little sense
If one can abide stars that are simply points of light, inert things that don’t watch us and are no kind of companion—and certainly this is what we all believe nowadays—one can learn to adjust to an empty sky. An empty sky is awfully beautiful, too, and, moreover, reminds us that we are the more…