Online
A poem in the March issue of Boxcar Poetry Review
Note on Poetry for my Daughter beside Water in April
Even if I say “the gulls tear their screams
from the muddy weather like lines of a brutal poem,”
even if “the lake rises and shakes its old dewlaps
against the boulders of the breakwater,”
it is still a chancy thing to write “I write...”
in the after-world of theory....
*
2 comments:
What a massive notion: "Words somehow melt into their objects,
despite the cold fathoms between thought and thing". Wonderful piece James. I really like the form.
I see you are a serious poet. I have linked to your site, despite your admitted fondness for WeltSchmertz, though you prefer Rilke's term. ;-)
A dangerous emotion for me!
Post a Comment