This doesn't leave me thinking "How sentimental!" so much as "What on earth
could the guy possibly have thought he meant?"
joanna
----- Original Message -----
From: "TheOldMole" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Friday, October 26, 2007 4:22 AM
Subject: Re: Revaluations
> RED IS THE COLOR OF BLOOD
>
> */by: Conrad Aiken (1889-1973)/*
>
> ED is the color of blood, and I will seek it:
> I have sought it in the grass.
> It is the color of steep sun seen through eyelids.
> It is hidden under the suave flesh of women--
> Flows there, quietly flows.
> It mounts from the heart to the temples, the singing mouth--
> As cold sap climbs to the rose.
> I am confused in webs and knots of scarlet
> Spun from the darkness;
> Or shuttled from the mouths of thirsty spiders.
> Madness for red! I devour the leaves of autumn.
> I tire of the green of the world.
> I am myself a mouth for blood ...
> Here, in the golden haze of the late slant sun,
> Let us walk, with the light in our eyes,
> To a single bench from the outset predetermined.
> Look: there are seagulls in these city skies,
> Kindled against the blue.
> But I do not think of the seagulls, I think of you.
> Your eyes, with the late sun in them,
> Are like blue pools dazzled with yellow petals.
> This pale green suits them well.
> Here is your finger, with an emerald on it:
> The one I gave you. I say these things politely--
> But what I think beneath them, who can tell?
> For I think of you, crumpled against a whiteness;
> Flayed and torn, with a dulled face.
> I think of you, writing, a thing of scarlet,
> And myself, rising red from that embrace.
> November sun is sunlight poured through honey:
> Old things, in such a light, grow subtle and fine.
> Bare oaks are like still fire.
> Talk to me: now we drink the evening's wine.
> Look, how our shadows creep along the grave!--
> And this way, how the gravel begins to shine!
> This is the time of day for recollections,
> For sentimental regrets, oblique allusions,
> Rose-leaves, shrivelled in a musty jar.
> Scatter them to the wind! There are tempests coming.
> It is dark, with a windy star.
> If human mouths were really roses, my dear,--
> (Why must we link things so?--)
> I would tear yours petal by petal with slow murder.
> I would pluck the stamens, the pistils,
> The gold and the green,--
> Spreading the subtle sweetness that was your breath
> On a cold wave of death....
> Now let us walk back, slowly, as we came.
> We will light the room with candles; they may shine
> Like rows of yellow eyes.
> Your hair is like spun fire, by candle-flame.
> You smile at me--say nothing. You are wise.
> For I think of you, flung down brutal darkness;
> Crushed and red, with pale face.
> I think of you, with your hair disordered and dripping.
> And myself, rising red from that embrace.
>
>
>
> Joseph Duemer wrote:
>> All right, I haven't looked at Aiken in a long time & I do have fond
>> memories of "The Morning Song of Lord Zero," but last time I looked a lot
>> of
>> Aiken looked & felt very diffuse. Maybe I was not looking for the right
>> things.
>>
>> Just found this online
>> discussion<http://members.netbistro.com/iankluge/oxymor.htm>of "Lord
>> Zero" by someone named, I kid you not, Dr. Ian Kluge. It seems, on
>> quick reading, like a reasonable account of the poem.
>>
>> And I have always defended Housman against detractors with tin ears &
>> iron
>> sensibilities.
>>
>> jd
>>
>> On 10/25/07, Frederick Pollack <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>>
>>> ----- Original Message -----
>>> From: "Jon Corelis" <[log in to unmask]>
>>> To: <[log in to unmask]>
>>> Sent: Thursday, October 25, 2007 10:32 AM
>>> Subject: Revaluations
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>> Housman and Graves at their best seem as good to me as ever. Dylan
>>>> Thomas's appeal is for me untouched; I think the sinking of his stock
>>>> is due largely to a current taste which reacts negatively to --
>>>> ohmigawd! EMOTION! Conrad Aiken has been seriously underrated.
>>>>
>>>> --
>>>>
>>> I agree re Thomas, and didn't mean to disparage Aiken entirely. Far
>>> from
>>> it: "The Coming Forth by Day of Osiris Jones" is, I think, a
>>> masterpiece.
>>> Gave me years later the idea, which has animated my work, of reclaiming
>>> territory from the novel.
>>>
>>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>
> --
> Tad Richards
> http://www.opus40.org/tadrichards/
> http://opusforty.blogspot.com/
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