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It's been a while...
since I read a poem that shocked and resonated in this way. Eventually, I'll get around to updating on my life, but for now, this:
What the Body Told
Rafael Campo
Not long ago, I studied medicine.
It was terrible, what the body told.
I’d look inside another person’s mouth,
And see the desolation of the world.
I’d see his genitals and think of sin.
( Read more... ) -
My Dream Gossip Blog
Time for a dissertation research tangent! I also think I need a WTF Renaissance tag.
From Brief Lives, by John Aubrey, an English country gentleman, who in the words of editor Edmund Wilson "flourished between 1626 and 1697" and was "of lively intellectual interests but rather infirm character." Said character flaws included the disruption of his ( Read more... ) -
But does it get better?
I am so sickened and depressed by this.
Part of what is frustrating to me in the coverage of this story, though, is that the dominant response seems to be “we were moral and civil once upon a time. It’s these kids, it’s this technology.” And that...is just a complete and utter erasure of underlying causes.
It isn’t technology that led to ( Read more... ) -
For Christina
So, a lot is going on, mostly me being a deadbeat, but I came across this poem and although I already lost the Meaningful Poetry Posting contest to Christina, I wanted to share this beautiful poem.
The Lake Isle of Innisfree - by W.B. Yeats
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine ( Read more... ) -
"and love/ is no less practical/ than a coffee grinder"
I told Christina a few days ago that I had found a poem that made me very happy, but I didn't want to post it right away because I was saving it. She laughed and asked what I was saving it *for*. I still haven't found a good answer for that question, but somehow, that hoarding impulse is still there, still strong, as if I can't quite bear to share ( Read more... ) -
A Date with Destiny
Or, idle musings on fiction vs. reality (spoilers: I think fiction wins ( Read more... ) -
"Her sad hands/ cut thin slices of lemon for tea/ like yellow wheels for a very small carriage"
It seems like I am back to the sonnet. I can't remember when or where I read this poem before, which is a curious sort of blanking to me. But I'm sure I have, that wonderful, startling, fairytale image of the carriage wheels is to particular for me to have imagined it on my own.
Miniature -- Yiannis Ritsos
translated by Kimon Friar
The woman stood ( Read more... ) -
"I have looked at it so long / I think it is a part of my heart."
I've avoided posting Sylvia Plath so I wouldn't look like an emo kid, but you know, I really love this poem. It's my favorite Plath. On a more absurd note, I was commenting to Christina that poets tend to be obsessed with (and I as a reader tend to be enchanted by) all this bird and flight imagery. So, here's a poem about a terrible fish.
Mirror -- ( Read more... ) -
Reading Practices: Pointless Introspection
Each time I have this sort of intense grad school meltdown, I feel like I’ll never be able to read again. And sometimes, it’s true. Between my first and second years, I spent a whole summer not reading because I couldn’t bear to look at books. After orals, sci-fi saved me. It wasn’t reading, it was consumption. Inhaling books so quickly, I hardly ( Read more... )
