Wow! I love this poem and your thoughts on it. Especially the thoughts on an earned ending. The epiphany in these poems is sudden, so why shouldn’t the ending reflect that suddenness? It’s good to be reminded that often in life, the medicine we really need is found through attention and the quieting of the mind. The last two lines really get me. “More than enough”. All we have to do is be open to it, which can be difficult. I think that part of what draws me to reading poetry, which in some ways is new to me. Everyday, or sometimes more than once, I sit (or stand) with intention and bring my attention to some lines, that more often than not offer some clarity I can carry with me.
Thanks for these wonderful Sunday meditations I enjoy so much.
Beautifully written. It reminded me of Mary Oliver's poetry too. And these lines in particular from Praying - 'just pay attention, then patch a few words together and don't try to make them elaborate, this isn't a contest but the doorway into thanks, and a silence into which another voice may speak'.
I am so grateful to subscribe to your newsletter. Especially this morning. Reading "It says there is still room for something here" renewed something in me. Thank you.
I loved your inner tour guide helping me understand why I love James Wright and that sudden shift at the end. And then there was your sudden shift at the end focused not so much on the poetry but the dark shadows of this technology we are addicted to and despair over. There are obvious concerns for our safety with rogue states like Israel blowing up people who are automatically suspected terrorists because they had the bad luck of ordering a pager (or the American foreign policy implicating assassinating reporters, or humanitarian aid workers, children...) but I hadn't thought about the depressing nature of this technology on our imagination and how it kills off novelty until I read the last bit of your Sunday epistle. A tangent on our tech feudal overlords here that I am late to learning about: how Google, Apple Amazon and Microsoft etc are gatekeepers between everyone I know-- friends and loved ones. https://harpers.org/archive/2024/10/the-antitrust-revolution-big-tech-barry-c-lynn/
Wow! I love this poem and your thoughts on it. Especially the thoughts on an earned ending. The epiphany in these poems is sudden, so why shouldn’t the ending reflect that suddenness? It’s good to be reminded that often in life, the medicine we really need is found through attention and the quieting of the mind. The last two lines really get me. “More than enough”. All we have to do is be open to it, which can be difficult. I think that part of what draws me to reading poetry, which in some ways is new to me. Everyday, or sometimes more than once, I sit (or stand) with intention and bring my attention to some lines, that more often than not offer some clarity I can carry with me.
Thanks for these wonderful Sunday meditations I enjoy so much.
Beautifully written. It reminded me of Mary Oliver's poetry too. And these lines in particular from Praying - 'just pay attention, then patch a few words together and don't try to make them elaborate, this isn't a contest but the doorway into thanks, and a silence into which another voice may speak'.
Lovely. This reminds me of Linda Gregg’s “The Weight”:
The Weight
by Linda Gregg
Two horses were put together in the same paddock.
Night and day. In the night and in the day
wet from heat and the chill of the wind
on it. Muzzle to water, snorting, head swinging
and the taste of bay in the shadowed air.
The dignity of being. They slept that way,
knowing each other always.
Withers quivering for a moment,
fetlock and the proud rise at the base of the tail,
width of back. The volume of them, and each other's weight.
Fences were nothing compared to that.
People were nothing. They slept standing,
their throats curved against the other's rump.
They breathed against each other,
whinnied and stomped.
There are things they did that I do not know.
The privacy of them had a river in it.
Had our universe in it. And the way
its border looks back at us with its light.
This was finally their freedom.
The freedom an oak tree knows.
That is built at night by stars.
Beautiful.
I'm thinking of another 2 horse poem...
Denise Levertov Poems 1960-1967
we drowse as horses drowse
afield, in accord;
though the fall cold
surrounds our warm bed,
and though by day we are singular
and often lonely.
I am so grateful to subscribe to your newsletter. Especially this morning. Reading "It says there is still room for something here" renewed something in me. Thank you.
I didn't see that coming.
I loved your inner tour guide helping me understand why I love James Wright and that sudden shift at the end. And then there was your sudden shift at the end focused not so much on the poetry but the dark shadows of this technology we are addicted to and despair over. There are obvious concerns for our safety with rogue states like Israel blowing up people who are automatically suspected terrorists because they had the bad luck of ordering a pager (or the American foreign policy implicating assassinating reporters, or humanitarian aid workers, children...) but I hadn't thought about the depressing nature of this technology on our imagination and how it kills off novelty until I read the last bit of your Sunday epistle. A tangent on our tech feudal overlords here that I am late to learning about: how Google, Apple Amazon and Microsoft etc are gatekeepers between everyone I know-- friends and loved ones. https://harpers.org/archive/2024/10/the-antitrust-revolution-big-tech-barry-c-lynn/