Two Photos And Four Autumn Poems

646B-Fall Branch Reflection

Autumn Poem

I have come to a still, but not a deep center,
A point outside the glittering current;
My eyes stare at the bottom of a river,
At the irregular stones, iridescent sandgrains,
My mind moves in more than one place,
In a country half-land, half-water.
I am renewed by death, thought of my death,
The dry scent of a dying garden in September,
The wind fanning the ash of a low fire.
What I love is near at hand,
Always, in earth and air.

Theodore Roethke

609B-Fall Circle-Lake 3

Sonnet 73

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see’st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the deathbed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.
   This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong,
   To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

William Shakespeare

Four Poems For Robin

An Autumn Morning In Shokoku-ji

Last night watching the Pleiades,
Breath smoking in the moonlight,
Bitter memory like vomit
Choked my throat.
I unrolled a sleeping bag
On mats on the porch
Under thick autumn stars.
In dream you appeared
(Three times in nine years)
Wild, cold, and accusing.
I woke shamed and angry:
The pointless wars of the heart.
Almost dawn. Venus and Jupiter.
The first time I have
Ever seen them close.

Gary Snyder

A Renewal

Having used every subterfuge
To shake you, lies, fatigue, or even that of passion,
Now I see no way but a clean break.
I add that I am willing to bear the guilt.

You nod assent. Autumn turns windy, huge,
A clear vase of dry leaves vibrating on and on.
We sit, watching. When I next speak
Love buries itself in me, up to the hilt.

James Merrill

Curmudgeon’s Dudgeon-Theodore Dalrymple On ‘Youth In Asia’

Mouse-in-hand, I’m daily reminded of the abundant mental and physical weakness on display in this world, should I care to notice, both within and without.

When it comes to yet another cause of the day, euthanisia, my skeptic’s eye glasses over anew; one thought temporarily overriding all incoming sensory perception:  ‘What’re they up to now?’

Perhaps there are good reasons not to glamourize nor Romanticize the urge to a young, tragic and rather public demise in addition to the moral questions death raises?

Or at least, maybe just teach the kids some Romeo and Juliet:

‘But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the East, and Juliet is the sun!’

I positively relish the day our academic, political and media ‘intelligentsia’ give this latest cause the dignity it so richly deserves.

Dalrymple:

If I were Dutch, I would not be altogether reassured by the ease with which it was widely (though mistakenly) believed that a 17-year-old girl named Noa Pothoven was put to death by doctors because of her unbearable mental suffering, rather than the fact that she was actually allowed to refuse all food and drink until she died of dehydration.’

and:

‘There was something distinctly histrionic or self-advertising about her suicide. She did not go quietly: she advertised or broadcast what she was going to do, and why she was going to do it. She did not want to shuffle off this mortal coil: she wanted to make a mark, to enter history. And she succeeded.’

There certainly is something rather histrionic and hysterical in the ‘environment’ these days:

***Bonus points to Dalrymple for mentioning ‘The Sufferings Of Young Werther‘ which I suffered in translation during year twenty-one on this Earth.  After spending time with Nietzsche via Walter Kaufman, eternity as a bath house full of spiders, and Rilke’s panther, I was well on my way to having a proper heart of stone.

Toss in some Blake, and ‘Bartleby, The Scrivener: A Story Of Wall Street‘, and I’m laughing all the way through the modern fog bank.

See you on the other side, Dear Reader (or not).

Come to think of it, the ‘Youth In Asia,’ probably will have something to do with the future:

Art & Entertainment-Adam Kirsch At The New Republic: ‘Ira Glass Is a Philistine for Saying Shakespeare Sucks, But He’s in Good Company’

Full piece here.

There’s some bard-hating going on, or at least some skepticism:

 ‘To Shaw, whose plays are political and polemical, Shakespeare was not political or polemical enough; to Tolstoy, who strove for organic naturalness, Shakespeare was neither organic nor natural. When T.S. Eliot declared that Hamlet was an artistic failure, he was not trying to make people stop seeing or reading Hamlet; rather, he was trying to get us to change the way we think about what makes a play successful.

In America, there is a strong democratic, leveling impulse, aside from political philosophy (addition: by this I mean which transcends most political conversations I’ve had, and is deep in our project), which artistic genius often pushes against, and/or comes to embrace for money and effect (writers like Faulkner in Hollywood).

Imagine yourself with these lines in your head at the checkout line:

From T.S. Eliot’s Preludes

3.

You tossed a blanket from the bed
You lay upon your back, and waited;
You dozed, and watched the night revealing
The thousand sordid images
Of which your soul was constituted;
They flickered against the ceiling.
And when all the world came back
And the light crept up between the shutters
And you heard the sparrows in the gutters,
You had such a vision of the street
As the street hardly understands;
Sitting along the bed’s edge, where
You curled the papers from your hair,
Or clasped the yellow soles of feet
In the palms of both soiled hands.

——

And suddenly you’re back in daily life, staring at Bat Boy, from the defunct Weekly World News.

batboy.gif

Related On This Site: When poetry went into the universities: Repost-From Poemshape: ‘Let Poetry Die’

Philosopher Of Art Denis Dutton of the Arts & Letters Daily argues the arts and Darwin can be sucessfully synthesized: Review of Denis Dutton’s ‘The Art Instinct’

Conservative Briton Roger Scruton suggests keeping political and aesthetic judgments apart in the humanities:Roger Scruton In The American Spectator Via A & L Daily: Farewell To Judgment

How might Nietzsche figure in the discussion (was he most after freeing art from a few thousand years of Christianity, monarchy and aristocracy…something deeper?), at least with regard to Camille Paglia.  See the comments:  Repost-Camille Paglia At Arion: Why Break, Blow, Burn Was Successful

From NPR: Grants To The NEA To Stimulate The Economy?From 2 Blowhards-We Need The Arts: A Sob Story

Repost-From David Thompson: ‘Postmodernism Unpeeled’

Roger Scruton In The American Spectator: The New Humanism…From Nigel Warburton’s Site: A Definition of Humanism?…From The City Journal Via Arts And Letters Daily: Andre Glucksman On “The Postmodern Financial Crisis”