Well, there you are,
I had your letter and half-
expected you today.
Can I take your hat, Mr. Whitman?
Don't mind the dog
he's glad to see somebody new.
Would you care for some tea
after your long journey?
Oh, I am here, Miss Dickinson,
but you shall not have the hat.
I am not so clear in my mind with this thirst and tea might not register within me.
A sherry might be a fine thing to slake my tongue.
Please, come in, sit down.
You'll have the sherry.
I want so much to hear
about your words.
I am unable to speak of much but facts, Miss Dickinson, for men ought not to speculate, particularly amid the varying changes in weathers- as much a disease as it appears a medicine.
To what beauty but your own have you lent yourself recently, my dear friend?
I've watched the hills
rise out of the morning mist.
I tried to paint them with my words--
to no avail.
When I read your work, I'm always reminded a bit of Emily Dickinson's but never had the nerve to say so before. There's the devastating simplicity of the words balanced against the depth, and sometimes misdirection, of the message. You've caught the two poets in this chapter very well - perhaps Walt Whitman more obviously than ED - but then he was more obvious. Thank you for letting us read it.
this hit me really hard for some reason..but in a good way.
the last stanza, was especially powerful to me..it went beyond words/images and even voice in my mind..went right to the heart, the emotions and reformed itself in the mind and its accompanying senses..
and set up nicely by the preceding question..well done..concise and accessible, on a deep level that resonated w/ me quite well.
You have made me want to become more familiar with Emily Dickinson through reading your collaborative work. Walt Whitman I know and love. I find his work dynamic and love the 'Singing of the Body Electric' something I cannot put down. His conversation with 'Emily' here shows a gentler and gentlemanly side to his person. I know and love Walt for his declamatory, vocative style when, instead of talking about, he talks to, and in no uncertain terms.
This was a most unusual treatment and dialogue which I have printed off and will probably study in some depth and write some more when I am more 'versed' in your piece. Meanwhile, Congratulations on some fine and original work.
John
What can I say? I tremendously enjoyed the first chapter of your book. It is, I think, your most epic thing thus far. I have many favorite poems in your work, and sections of poems, and I try tolist them, and I do want to single out some that seized hold of me and wouldn't let go for hours
"I've watched the hills
rise out of the morning mist.
I tried to paint them with my words--
to no avail. " ------this is so innocent, so altruistic.
When I read your work, I'm always reminded a bit of Emily Dickinson's but never had the nerve to say so before. There's the devastating simplicity of the words balanced against the depth, and sometimes misdirection, of the message. You've caught the two poets in this chapter very well - perhaps Walt Whitman more obviously than ED - but then he was more obvious. Thank you for letting us read it.
to the Lost Boys
I am no Wendy;
but my voice brings you back to me.
And you sit around my feet,
anxious for a story
or a kiss.
Listening to my words
spinning adventures,
like so much g.. more..