This Full Velvet Jacket gig really is wearing out the strings.
A friend of mine observed that given Prynne has only to date published with
small presses, quite a good record for 30 years, surely ... and as if poets
decide how a publisher is going to present them ... and who cares? Lots
easier than talking about whether it's possible to make a moral
language.....
I agree with said friend. I find it sourly ironic that a debate that is
verging enticingly on questions of personal identity and authorship, and the
relationship between the contingent, extremely temporary critters, that are
horrified by the bills in the morning post, who like the speaker of 'Borges
and I' are 'doomed - utterly and inevitably - to oblivion', and those
trans-personal entities that inhabit the poems, that one encounters during,
in Henry's phrase, 'complete absorption in an imaginary world', is instead
being constantly dragged back from escape velocity by the tug of what seems
an extreme pettiness, into what sometimes looks like the little spites and
backstabs of that ghastly notion 'the literary world'.
I prefer Russian icons to Raphael, mediaeval lyrics to Hollywood retails of
Auden, Delta Blues to Presley or the Stones.
As for cults, well, we lost our authentic shrines over here under the
boy-prig king, Edward, did we not?
db
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