I don’t know where or when I learned that I needed to curb any narcissistic tendency I might feel, even in grieving, but I most certainly caught on quick.
Posts Tagged ‘ sorrow ’
Didn’t realize she’d grown that old, riding the Greyhound bus . . . . Her poems span generations — from Cheap: “I didn’t know I wasn’t free” and Illinois “Blue as a young pig’s eyes” and “the accordian pleated space” of As Now to Eden, Then and Now. She lost her eyesight eventually, never her vision, her ability to scrape surfaces down to rot or gemstone. We are so fortunate she lived and wrote this long. ~ yours truly, df
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keeping in mind the words of the poet Pierre Joris, ". . . I make the arrogant claim that the poet is possibly the last, in Robert Kelly’s words, ‘scientist of the whole… to whom all data whatsoever are of use.’ . . . The prerogative of the poet is to steal directly whatever is of use, without needing to theoretically kowtow via analysis, explicatio, critical cloning or proof of pc allegiance."