Ah, this is splendid! ". . . skin, prepared for a thousand words." Such a sensuous, full, sophisticated exploration of the "spell" of written language. Thank you.
A marvelous poem. She starts with a quote from Love's Labor Lost in which Ferdinand reads a letter. The poet identifies herself with the “unlettered small-knowing soul,” and in Shakespeare's letter that is Costard. The letter informs Costard he is about to be punished by Sir Anthony Dull, and so is the poet here. Costard proceeds to squirm as does the poet. But the poet cleverly left herself a way out. The first line says spelling was beyond her. In this way she cleverly informs the reader that she can now spell. Or can she? She mentions Dickinson, whose rhythms she hears as stolen, but whose words appear to her as speckles on the “theme” notebooks. She notices the red and blue lines on the page in the “theme” notebooks and decides that she ought to have a “scheme . . . something other than a compulsion to fill in the blanks.” So apparently she has not yet figured out that the “speckles on the page” are letters that form words rather than merely squiggles that dirty blank space. In the end she quotes a line from Duncan. Duncan's line is about a meadow that has a unity. This poet identifies this unity with her own skin, which is “prepared for a thousand words” and “her tongue prepared for four scrolls.” Apparently her skin, holding her body together, supplies the poet with a “scheme.” The mysterious identification of specific numbers (“a thousand words”) and the even more enigmatic “four scrolls” prepares us for the poet's next poem in which she tells us how she learned arithmetic.
Ah, this is splendid! ". . . skin, prepared for a thousand words." Such a sensuous, full, sophisticated exploration of the "spell" of written language. Thank you.
Brilliant in its playfulness -- deliciously and fiercely intellectual. I revel in the lush language and multi-layered meanings. Congratulations!
A marvelous poem. She starts with a quote from Love's Labor Lost in which Ferdinand reads a letter. The poet identifies herself with the “unlettered small-knowing soul,” and in Shakespeare's letter that is Costard. The letter informs Costard he is about to be punished by Sir Anthony Dull, and so is the poet here. Costard proceeds to squirm as does the poet. But the poet cleverly left herself a way out. The first line says spelling was beyond her. In this way she cleverly informs the reader that she can now spell. Or can she? She mentions Dickinson, whose rhythms she hears as stolen, but whose words appear to her as speckles on the “theme” notebooks. She notices the red and blue lines on the page in the “theme” notebooks and decides that she ought to have a “scheme . . . something other than a compulsion to fill in the blanks.” So apparently she has not yet figured out that the “speckles on the page” are letters that form words rather than merely squiggles that dirty blank space. In the end she quotes a line from Duncan. Duncan's line is about a meadow that has a unity. This poet identifies this unity with her own skin, which is “prepared for a thousand words” and “her tongue prepared for four scrolls.” Apparently her skin, holding her body together, supplies the poet with a “scheme.” The mysterious identification of specific numbers (“a thousand words”) and the even more enigmatic “four scrolls” prepares us for the poet's next poem in which she tells us how she learned arithmetic.