domestication of the
>task of living on this planet, as though it were something as simple and
>unproblematic as polishing the brassware and can be figured by the domestic
>work of women who launder clean and praise their children. (Where do these
>women live? In the sick fantasies of the culture....)
>
Chris Hayden says: But it is, which makes it all the more criminal that we
don't. And men do laundry and praise their children, too. I find no gender
differences in it whatever.
>It has to be loved as if it were embroidered
>with flowers and birds and two joined hearts upon it.
>
>the metaphor just doesn't work for me - whoever _loved_ anything with
>flowers birds and hearts
Chris Hayden says: Obviously this poet. I never did love going forth to
slaughter my enemies with spear and shield--do I not like the Iliad any
less?
> Is a description that can in any way match or describe an appropriate
>attitude to the earth we stand on, the water we drink, the air we breath?
>
Chris Hayden says: Yes
>the sheets of lake water
>smoothed with the hand
>and the foam of the oceans pressed into neatness.
>
>Excessive prissy and inappropriate attention. A kind of fussing that seems
>to me deadly! Devastating manicured hand of order passing over the waters
>
Chris Hayden says: Your value judgment. Duly noted and recorded.
>
>the poem takes a pretty and rhapsodic approach which invites parody and
>just does not have enough internal gravity for this reader
>
>my pennyworth
>
>Liz
Chris Hayden says: Because she wanted to be pretty and rhapsodic. You can
parody anything. Again I ask to you and others, come forth with an example
of what you mean (of a poem with internal gravity)
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