I too was drawn in, Jill. The lyric you seem to be exploring here reads to me as a form of ghazal, & it works, even with that triplet. I really like the 2nd stanza, that opening…
Doug
On Sep 15, 2015, at 7:05 PM, Jill Jones <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Hi Sheila,
>
> Many thanks for your words on this. Especially about 'work' twice. That's useful. I'm fiddling with ideas of lyric at the moment, as well as the usual of trying to make things work.
>
> The idea of a river in Adelaide is usually an idea only. In a lot of Australia. I was talking about the Murray with friends this week, ideas of lost waters.
>
> Best,
> Jill
>
>
> On 16/09/2015, at 9:54 AM, Sheila Murphy wrote:
>
>> This is gentle, lilting, intellectually challenging, Jill. There is a
>> leaping element, connective tissue, projection beyond certainty that
>> transcends any easy dichotomy between certainty and uncertainty.
>> The words "I want" lend impulse and strength. The words "possible" and
>> "personal" seem to call upon the word "work" to be used twice, because it's
>> needed twice.
>>
>> Setting down assumptions. The idea of a river. Ahhhhhhh
>>
>> Thank you. Sheila
>>
>> On Tue, Sep 15, 2015 at 4:44 PM, Jill Jones <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>>
>>> River
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> I think we’re past the polka-dot world
>>>
>>> and things that sing willy-nilly.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> I want to touch the beholden
>>>
>>> and be beside your weather.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> I want to hold your hand as though
>>>
>>> that’s possible. I can’t pretend I don’t know
>>>
>>> what’s possible or what’s personal.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> Today it seems as though the rivers work.
>>>
>>> So many of them, working in spite of us.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> I can’t pretend those ideas can be laid
>>>
>>> down with the blether someone believes.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> I want to lie down with you
>>>
>>> and pretend we too have water.
>>>
Douglas Barbour
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Recent publications: (With Sheila E Murphy) Continuations & Continuation 2 (UofAPress).
Recording Dates (Rubicon Press).
Done in by creation itself.
I mean the gods. Not us. Well us too.
The gods moved into books. Who wrote the books?
We wrote the books. In whose dream, then are we dreaming?
Robert Kroetsch.
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