Carl,

Thanks for these comments which I greatly appreciate having. It's very much
a metaphorical bird. So the account of the bird has to have a foot in both
camps. As a result it may sound contrived (and just wrong, as you politely
pointed out) when considered literally, and that's something I have to work
on.


BW

Colin




From: "Carl Reimann" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Tuesday, April 29, 2003 1:59 AM
Subject: Re: inside and out


> Premise: Do we really envy birds?
>
> "what can we really say" is a pattern I like to think of as 'toying with
> the reader': in this pattern, the poet feigns not being able to say
> something, then turns around and speaks to the matter. It takes a
> variety of forms, but the basic response is: you, the writer, are
> charging yourself with writing. Decide what to say and say it.
>
> "underfoot" is odd after "hungry months at sea": whose feet will be
> there?
>
> Premise: aren't birds built for these things, storing extra fat and so
> forth?
>
> The use of "bird" in S2 and S3 falls flat, to my ear.
>
> Premise: isn't the leaden weight of "its" freedom quite apparent? Anyone
> can see that birds must scrounge for a living just like accountants and
> so forth. ;)
>
> "but does not see itself": this is a clumsy way of expressing the idea
> that birds and other animals don't have the sense of self-consciousness
> that we have; perhaps it's not clumsy but boring.
>
> "lives only with land in view": quite false as they often look up and
> see the 'sky'.
>
> Overall the contrast between humans and birds is not brought to a
> meaningful fruition here. As I read I find I question the lines, am not
> swept away by them. Anyway we do soar high, and do all we do, and still
> sing of the moon....
>
> Carl
> =========
>
> Inside and Out
>
> We envy birds
> but what can we really say
> of the long flight,
> the rough air against eyes and the hungry months at sea.
> They who fly must force themselves on
> or fall underfoot.
>
> We see nobility of plumage,
> the quest for height, angelic blue,
> all from the outside.
> The aesthete in us gazes
> but does not feel with bird
> the leaden weight of its freedom.
>
> Bird feels but does not see itself,
> lives only with land in view.
> Are we really so strong
> that we could soar with aching wing
> and sing still of the moon,
> of bright air around us,
> uplifting on updraft arms,
> of how it is in heaven
> to dwell among stars?
>