First reactions to this: both intense & laid-back, it's allegorical
itself in a suggestive, unfixed way. It makes me think of Canetti (*Die
Blendung*) and Rilke (the 10th Duinese Elegy) without actually referring
to them, yes, and Zarathustra too: that is, it has a long historical
perspective, while retaining your usual suggestion of alternative
reality. Something is breaking down - a possible entente, but the
breakdown may be the condition of the poem. Its sadness arises from the
implications of the beginning, but the occasion itself is couched in
terms of pleasing asperity. I like this very much, Fred - sometimes your
long ones lose me, but that's my loss, not yours. Tremendously (the word
is advised) concentrated & thought-provoking. Those walls are really
"load-bearing".
Martin
P.S. I always have to correct the apostrophes in your texts - it's very
difficult to read something with so many question marks all over the
place. Don't you have Plain Text?
Frederick Pollack wrote:
> I'll Huff and I'll Puff
>
>
> He wants to get in in the worst way.
> The door of my cottage isn't really
> narrow, but he's wearing
> this allegorical backpack
> of which he is completely unaware.
> Bang. Bang. I'm glad I made
> the lintel and load-bearing walls
> so sturdy. The backpack
> (it must be filled with allegorical
> weights) is at odds
> with his missionary/undertaker
> style. Though he started
> with wheedling soulfulness, he now shouts
> vile animadversions
> concerning my lifestyle, fetishization
> (I'm paraphrasing) of Reason,
> the elitist things
> he sees from the door but can't reach.
> I point out that frustration
> and anger have made him forget
> whatever allegorical good
> he's selling. I perceive
> (I tell him) a connection
> between his efforts and mine,
> in my art; he should be glad
> to have inspired such identification.
> There is no autonomous
> *time in my work; day and night are effects
> of the will. The more, incoherent now,
> he strikes the outside wall, the more
> tasteful my room becomes, while the city
> I see over the backpack
> dissolves into utter darkness.
--
A man may write of love, and not be in love, as well as of husbandrie, and not goe to plough: or of witches, and be none: or of holinesse, and be flat prophane. - Giles Fletcher the Elder.
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