Monday, February 28, 2011

Feb. 21 : McGrath, Shakespeare 130, Neruda

My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

Companionate love... I do think. She doesn't want flattery.
Openers thought it twisty...

Capitalist Poem #5 --Campbell McGrath : it takes a while for me to get into something like this. Simple sentences that don't follow any form. Clear simple, "slurpified" lines which actually set up the end quite well!
"I was aware of social injustice
in only the vaguest possible way."

McGrath says never be afraid of appearing stupid, foolish, trivial, jejune. Whitman, Neruda might not have published anything if they believed that mattered.

"Ode to My Socks" by Pablo Neruda (translated by Robert Bly)
different line breaks in another edition of Bly's translation, breaks which seemed to chop the poem up to the point of nonsense, into mere dull words disconnected from poetic meaning.

Final Soliloquy of the Interior Paramour
by Wallace Stevens

Sheer ability to mix intellect and emotion in such a transcendent way.

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