Shalom Christina
Thanks for thoughtful and defined suggestions.
I had wanted to see if I could translate the pain of my divorce into another
narrative experience, like Stanislavski poetry.
kol tuv, Ryfkah
In a message dated 7/7/02 2:00:08 PM, [log in to unmask] writes:
<< Gosh, Ryfkah, this is such a hugely emotional poem that it's difficult to
comment. As an outsider, there are lines that distance me. I'll put
brackets round them below. But I can't see any reason why they should be
excluded. It's a personal poem, and all the better for it. It opens up
enormous questions about who poetry is for. I wouldn't care about that.
bw
christina
> Other Living Things
>
> As sprinklers run and run
> a flood streams like smashed glass
>
> Time captured in pictures
> (I kneel by mound of ground
> mourn nostalgia) *** I'd take this out. Seems superfluous.
> The photo of our new daughter
> in his arms the light sloping
> in late fall slips from the pile
>
> Rain drums in another land
> Our (saffron) lawn still thirsts
>
> The flag that cloaked
> his coffin rests in the box
> Its triangle precise I will
> endow it to our child who
> is almost old enough to care
> "War," proclaimed General Sherman, *** I'd cut all of this out to give a
> universal picture.
>
> "is not the glory that boys make of it."
> The overcast day deceives
>
> Operation Desert Storm
> furied He scribbled love *** and I'd carry on from'He scribbled love
> letters daily quaint not subtle
> exactly what a wife wanted
> He performed a holy deed
> saved another I lament him *** you don't need to say you lament him: it's
> clear from the poem.
>
> Like sprinklers tears surge
> They nourish memory
>
> other living things
>
> Ryfkah 7/5/02 >>
|