There are no limits to grief. The loving man
Simmers his porcupine stew. Among the tim-
ber growing on earth grief finds roots
from 'Limits'
...
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I just love the imagery of the coin and grief/joy. My knowledge of Bly is limited..I first heard of him, when my husband was invited by a friend to beat drums in the woods. But then I was reading a book written by Ted Kooser, where he included some poetry by Bly and I was completely moved. It was the story about a seal I remember. Certain parts of the poem read like a man's diary where he wants to record his impressions of Bly, but then the speaker moves in and out between prose and poetry, like opposite sides of a coin. This poem contains poetry, imagery, recollections, impressions, and metaphor. Very well done.
Thanks for your appreciation (which deserves an adjective because it's so articulate and precise so-) , your
utter appreciation. Bly often cited Bake and Yeats as his Masters, and some of us began to talk about him as Our Master. He was never vain when he heard things like that. He would just nod his head as if acknowledging the tradition of poets, passing the torch from a more experienced one to an apprentice.
In the 70s - one way or another - we were briefly all of us his apprentices. Grasshopper, your similes are getting sharper, your rhythms jazzier.
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I just love the imagery of the coin and grief/joy. My knowledge of Bly is limited..I first heard of him, when my husband was invited by a friend to beat drums in the woods. But then I was reading a book written by Ted Kooser, where he included some poetry by Bly and I was completely moved. It was the story about a seal I remember. Certain parts of the poem read like a man's diary where he wants to record his impressions of Bly, but then the speaker moves in and out between prose and poetry, like opposite sides of a coin. This poem contains poetry, imagery, recollections, impressions, and metaphor. Very well done.
Thanks for your appreciation (which deserves an adjective because it's so articulate and precise so-) , your utter appreciation. Bly often cited Bake and Yeats as his Masters, and some of us began to talk about him as Our Master. He was never vain when he heard things like that. He would just nod his head as if acknowledging the tradition of poets, passing the torch from a more experienced one to an apprentice. In the 70s - one way or another - we were briefly all of us his apprentices. Grasshopper, your similes are getting sharper, your rhythms jazzier.