Poetics and Poetry Discussion
(6/25/2013 3:43:00 AM)
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It brought to mind Tranströmer:
Tired of all who come with words, words but no language
l went to the snow-covered island.
The wild does not have words.
The unwritten pages spread out on all sides!
I come upon the tracks of roe deer in the snow.
Language but no words.
(6/24/2013 9:44:00 PM)
Now this one strikes me as a little phony, that third stanza implying the poor, over-sophisticated poet wants to be freed into the language of tracks. Well, she can; I belong to an environmental group, which, like many others, teaches its members to track, How close salvation is for the over-cerebral manipulator of words!
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