"Oh, oh, you will be sorry for that word!" by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Wait by Galway Kinnel
Emergency Management by Camille Rankine
Labyrinth. by Kenyatta Rogers
Like Brooms of Steel (1252) by Emily Dickinson - 1830-1886
David started us off by reciting from memory A Boundless Moment by Robert Frost--
a perfect inspiration in these days awaiting Spring, when the beech leaves are white
and still hanging on after winter... and what is this law of attachment?
As ever, a lovely panache to wrap us up in nature and philosophy...We have discussed the Nude before... but this time, George, from Rundel thought of his Haitian mother...naked, hugging trees... some felt he captured the power of the nude in a playful way... all others felt the nude application to her mind presumptuous. I still admire the craft, and am particularly fond of the w's at the end...
One-woman waterfall, she wears/her descent... perhaps like Fanny Choi's Cyborg, she'll know what to do if misinterpreted -- "collecting motions into her shape" even more convincingly than anyone collecting thoughts. Burne's angels came up.
"Oh, I shall love you still, and all of that." one of my favorite lines.
and the Millay was triggered by the week before.
Wylie uses prink in Scots dialect…
Lauren Bacall. You know how to whistle don’t you ? Just put your lips together…https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MheNUWyROv8
Another Kinnel, so why not. this was the one written for the person contemplating suicide.
Wonderful advice without that irritating, "oh, you'll understand when you are older..." The music... the beat of the loom,
the slow making of what is being woven...
The Rankine was in a recent issue of the New Yorker...
Beautiful ending... if I could be...
what is something/nothing? If the wind, we can only see the effect of wind.
if nothing -- perhaps the ending is with a period, or an unending list of possibilities to come.
Wonderful advice without that irritating, "oh, you'll understand when you are older..." The music... the beat of the loom,
the slow making of what is being woven...
"music of looms weaving all our loves again.
Be there to hear it, it will be the only time,
most of all to hear,
the flute of your whole existence,
rehearsed by the sorrows, play itself into total exhaustion. "
Recalls "... have to rehearse… readiness is all." Hamlet Act. 4;
The Rankine was in a recent issue of the New Yorker...
Beautiful ending... if I could be...
what is something/nothing? If the wind, we can only see the effect of wind.
Laybrinth: constructed in a series of boxes.
Comments: he only gives us contours of what he’s missing. each “box” an aggravation…
paralysis == peril of parallelization…
disorientation…
We ended by being completely puzzled by the Dickinson.
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