On 4/10/2014 6:21 PM, Bill Wootton wrote:
> There is a sort of paralysis, I find, Ken, issuing down the arm, from the head, when trying to transmute urgent thoughts to paper legibilities. It's a straining process. As in pushing hard but also as in filtering. What gets through is a paler, rougher version of the purer original pulse. I'm sure visual artists feel this even more.
>
> Anyway your poem is an effective representation of frustration and wrestling and resolution.
>
> Bill
I think it worked then. Not really a poem but an expression of how
pissed off I was at the failure of thought. The poem came back
later--the Duke of Albany's phone call to King Lear--but I'm not sure
about that either. A reaction by a husband to how his father-in-law
turned on his wife. Needs to be better structured, I fear. But at least
the impulse came back and came out. "Now have I done a good day's work."
Enough of it for today. Tonight I'm just going to chill out and watch
Verdi's "Falstaff."
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