Jeff
too many bodiless phrasings, start with the first line 'enjoyment of love in
manners', now although the appearance of manners at this point is
interesting, 'enjoyment of love'? It's too anodyne. I always remember that
great phrase from Vallejo: 'Pienso en tu sexo'. It is animal it is
intelligent is supercharged with rhythm. Which last is a necessity for any
true poetry.
There is a lot of stuff brimming on the edge of potential in your piece, but
too many wasted adjectives cluttering the ground. it's certainly
interesting, but it dissipates its force.
Best
Dave
David Bircumshaw
Leicester, England
Home Page
A Chide's Alphabet
Painting Without Numbers
http://homepage.ntlworld.com/david.bircumshaw/index.htm
----- Original Message -----
From: "Jeff Harrison" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Friday, December 27, 2002 5:16 PM
Subject: Prelapsarian Triumvirate (3 Stanza Monte)
Supple enough spectacle, enjoyment in love with manners
principles considered these meals juvenile folly
writing related by blood to proxy, perhaps dissipations
multiplication forced her back, omitting the obstacle
dishonor the articles outside ourselves, my works on paper
suggested to me by my substitute, dispatches succumbed
to utility, liberated now - equivalent advantages
spoiled in private, false till yesterday
delights spoil magistrates, expenses left the theatre
some secret flaw of my own, pulse beating the bushes
Sight compasses half-alive joy, a liberty of poetic personae
literary merit another old dispute over chiseled phrase
noble nerves and monopolists produce permanent truths
an old cotton shirt half-heartedly flapping in silken grey skies
the beautiful way you speak to me & imagine me a solid score
poet, you thirst for handouts but colonists cannot don native themes
I know you old boulevardiers, mounted for our edification, spiritual
values dance with a clumsy, a sneer at history - it was a
sweet old thing, place-seeking hirelings splash the colors
literariously
the unity of modern times, a light comedy auditions for tragedy
A stout gathering near the statue ran through the broomsedge
I say they're all statues unmindful of their own stone-quarries
imaginative marionettes passed a line of vehicles to self-sacrifice
"they couldn't keep awake any longer," she sat in the moonlight
drawing quickly to conceal reminiscence, she could recall
admiration as a prison, "and what do you do with point of view?"
the rest of the day drew against you, you'll do for a day's dinner
the moist woods continued, she held trodden endeavors
the doorway struck her sharply and was intimately delicate
sunrise would make it easier for you, acorns on dead leaves
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