From: Mark Steven Heyman (markheyman@infoproconsulting.com)
Date: Wed Oct 20 2004 - 20:58:12 BST
Joe, Arlo...
Thanks. That splits us 2-2, so far...
msh
On 20 Oct 2004 at 14:36, Arlo Bensinger wrote:
Hi Mark,
I would choose #1. In some ways, mostly in spirit, it reminds me of
Goethe's Prolog in Faust (albeit somewhat shorter).
Why? I don't have the critical language to dissect specific aspects,
suffice it to say that it pulled me into an emotive state deeper and
more "still" than the second (partially, perhaps, because it sounds
less oratory and more personal).
Arlo
At 02:36 PM 10/19/2004, you wrote:
>Hi all,
>
>I love the bit in ZMM where Phaedrus demonstrates to his students
>that they know what Quality is, even if they can't define it. I
>thought it might be fun and instructive to try something similar
>here. So, which of the following poems has the highest quality, and
>why? (Note: I think both of these poems are great, so this is no
>straw man operation here.)
>
> For the Anniversary of My Death
>
> Every year without knowing it I have passed the day
> When the last fires will wave to me
> And the silence will set out
> Tireless traveller
> Like the beam of a lightless star
>
> Then I will no longer
> Find myself in life as in a strange garment
> Surprised at the earth
> And the love of one woman
> And the shamelessness of men
> As today writing after three days of rain
> Hearing the wren sing and the falling cease
> And bowing not knowing to what
>
>
>
> Sad Steps
>
>Groping back to bed after a piss
>I part the thick curtains, and am startled by
>The rapid clouds, the moon's cleanliness.
>
>Four o'clock: wedge-shaped gardens lie
>Under a cavernous, a wind-pierced sky.
>There's something laughable about this,
>
>The way the moon dashes through the clouds that blow
>Loosely as cannon-smoke to stand apart
>(Stone-coloured light sharpening the roofs below)
>
>High and preposterous and separate--
>Lozenge of love! Medallion of art!
>O wolves of memory! Immensements! No,
>
>One shivers slightly, looking up there.
>The hardness and the brightness and the plain
>Far-reaching singleness of that wide stare
>
>Is a reminder of the strength and pain
>Of being young; that it can't come again,
>But is for others undiminished somewhere.
>
>
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