preamble to a trip back to Daniel Boone's fort . . . and come to think of it a woman that would leave the protection of hearth and home to brave the wilds . . . she must be a little crazy
Well, I read the piece - I thought about what I know of you - the two contradicted - I skimmed the reviews, and they seemed to agree more with what I know of you than what I saw. For the life of me, it may be the mood that I have been in of late - but I saw this as a suicide piece. As somebody that looked as if they were going about their normal lives in a normal manner, suddenly disappears... having loosed themselves to the cool still flow, perhaps as Ophelia did in Hamlet. Yes, I definitely saw something different here - perhaps I need to get out of left field.
i am haunted by the brilliant imagery of William Carlos as i step through this piece into the wild air that the unknown allows me. the way in which the water will cascade through my almost meaningless limbs, reminding me of their meaning. whether this was meant to call to mind Styx, the river of time, or the journey we are all floating onward to, is irrelevant as i feel the cool of this water. thank you, speaker and poety, for taking me down toward the banks with you.
. oh ... this is just so surreal ... i can only imagine what fun that must be ... to wander off like that ... just the kinda thing i would love to do ... to escape from the mess and just revel in the cool flow of a river ... love this ... hope you have amazing fun this weekend ... it's so fascinating to be able to do this ... :) ...
this is a little odd, but I like it. It reminds me of all the abandoned homesteads that you see in the north carolina/tennessee region.
The end is nicely ambiguous. You aren't sure whether she's just given up on everything or whether she's just shirking, since the tone of the poem isn't particularly "depressing"
What a great testament to time honored tradition of playing hookie, of that intensely selfish but of so pleasurable feeling of enumerating your chores, and making the decision to ignore them in favor of something you want to do instead of something you ought to do.
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..