Friday, September 18, 2009

Quotations : May Sarton

When the muse appears after long absence
Everything stops except the poem. It rises
In an unbroken wave and topples to silence.
There is no way to make it happen by will.
No muse appears when invoked, dire need
Will not rouse her pity.

(from "Letters from Maine," #9)

:: :: :: :: ::

It is harder to see what one sees
Than anyone knows.

(from "For Monet")

:: :: :: :: ::

May Sarton, Letters from Maine : Poems (Norton, 1984), p. 26, p. 37

Cummings : from the archives

A rare autumn poem from Edward Estlin Cummings, usually the laureate of spring!

Monday, September 14, 2009

The Holy Cross

I've updated phos hilaron for the first time in months, with something in recognition of today's liturgical observance.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

John Ashbery

[...] Five days from the last clerestory
your ambiance drained into the pockmarked shutters.
Obviously the jig was up. What's that? Whose jig? O I can see
ahead into the flying; the poor don't talk much about it,
but her apron is ambrosial with trellised stars,
her stance stares down even the most unquiet,
and on days like this you ride free.
There was such numismatics in his pocket
as only jitterbugs in cyberspace could conjugate
while from fate's awning the diamond drip descended, bigger
than both of us, big as all outdoors.

John Ashbery, from "Come On, Dear," in Notes from the Air : Selected Later Poems (Ecco, 2007), pp. 228-9