We come to know each other by what we write, but another no less revealing way is by what we read that resonates with us. This is from Mark Strand's book "Dark Harbor", number XXVII.
Within the languorous length of his sentences,
Forming a pleasing pointless commotion;
Of another the figures pushing each other
Out of the way, the elaborate overcharged
Thought threatening always to fly apart;
Of another the high deliberate tone,
The diction tending toward falseness
But always falling perfectly short;
Of another the rush and vigor of observation,
The speed of disclosure, the aroused intelligence
Exerting itself, lifting the poem into prophecy;
Of this one the humor, the struggle to locate high art
Anywhere but where expected, and to gild the mundane
With the force of the demonic or the angelic;
Of yet another the precision, the pursuit of rightness,
Balance, some ineffable decorum, the measured, circuitous
Stalking of the subject, turning surprise to revelation;
And that leaves this on on the side of his mountain,
Hunched over the page, thanking his loves for coming
And keeping him company all this time.
Poetry by countryfog
Read 358 times
Written on 2010-12-20 at 16:39
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Sharing Mark Strand
Of this one I love how the beautiful echoedWithin the languorous length of his sentences,
Forming a pleasing pointless commotion;
Of another the figures pushing each other
Out of the way, the elaborate overcharged
Thought threatening always to fly apart;
Of another the high deliberate tone,
The diction tending toward falseness
But always falling perfectly short;
Of another the rush and vigor of observation,
The speed of disclosure, the aroused intelligence
Exerting itself, lifting the poem into prophecy;
Of this one the humor, the struggle to locate high art
Anywhere but where expected, and to gild the mundane
With the force of the demonic or the angelic;
Of yet another the precision, the pursuit of rightness,
Balance, some ineffable decorum, the measured, circuitous
Stalking of the subject, turning surprise to revelation;
And that leaves this on on the side of his mountain,
Hunched over the page, thanking his loves for coming
And keeping him company all this time.
Poetry by countryfog
Read 358 times
Written on 2010-12-20 at 16:39
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Lawrence Beck |
