Wednesday, April 15, 2009


Some kind of artifact in a
suit walks in
around the wall where Hikmet
is held
shackles are a coconut
without amusement
without amount
for no particular reason
a raisin in the sun
songing weaves
abolish the heated sun

For today I almost finished the Mayer book. It's the first volume I haven't managed to complete this month, and I'll have to come back to it in what I expect to be a few "free days." Everyone who's read Mayer knows how good she is. My favorite pieces are the verse poems, many of them, especially toward the middle of the book. I like, in the prose works, the places where she, in the midst of immense catalogues of dailiness, hits on an extended historical or literary anecdote or description of a plant, etc.--the way those extended passages alter the rhythm of the work. Nearly everything about this writing is inspiring in the best sense: the palpability of the language, the stunningly prolific writing life, the devotion to it and the acceptance of poverty and uncertainty as part of that devotion. There's no better example.

Labels: ,


Post a Comment

<< Home