Displaying posts categorized under


Nay, I have done. (Have I?)

Since ther’s no helpe, Come let us kisse and part,Nay, I have done: You get no more of Me,And I am glad, yea glad with all my heartThat thus so cleanly, I my Selfe can free.Shake hands for ever, Cancell all our Vowes,And when we meet at any time againe,Be it not seene in either […]

Waiting for reluctant thoughts

I’ve got a bunch of half-drafted posts and further topics to write about, but I think I’m going to go easy on the posting for the next little while. I need some time to quiet down and think. Among other things, I’ve just joined an unofficial poetry workshop comprised of MFA students, former MFA students, […]

Personal anthology: John Ashbery

Night Life I thought it was you but I couldn’t tell.It’s so hard, working with people, you want them allTo like you and be happy, but they get in the wayOf their own predilections, it’s like a stone Blocking the mouth of a cave. And when you say, come on let’sBe individuals reveling in our […]

Personal anthology: Poems about wells

It’s been a while since I’ve posted a favorite poem, hasn’t it? Let’s rectify that. Personal Helicon As a child, they could not keep me from wells And old pumps with buckets and windlasses. I loved the dark drop, the trapped sky, the smells Of waterweed, fungus and dank moss. One, in a brickyard, with […]

Now if only high schools taught this kind of writing…

All this talk about rhetoric reminded me of my favorite mock-oration ever, Sir Philip Sidney’s Defence of Poesy, and especially its conclusion: I conjure you all that have had the evil luck to read this ink-wasting toy of mine, even in the name of the Nine Muses, no more to scorn the sacred mysteries of […]

Bibliotheca Abscondita

Via Maud Newton, I found the Invisible Library, "a collection of books that only appear in other books." At last there’s a library for The Murder of Gonzago (the play-within-a-play in Hamlet), the novels from Calvino’s If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler, the complete monographs of Sherlock Holmes, and all the imaginary books in […]

Personal anthology: Wallace Stevens

Man Carrying Thing The poem must resist the intelligence Almost successfully. Illustration: A brune figure in winter evening resists Identity. The thing he carries resists The most necessitous sense. Accept them, then, As secondary (parts not quite perceived Of the obvious whole, uncertain particles Of the certain solid, the primary free from doubt, Things floating […]