tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post4724521227544866184..comments2024-03-28T18:48:28.471-07:00Comments on the prowling Bee: I breathed enough to take the Trick—Susan Kornfeldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05384011972647144453noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-56991066997179917022023-05-08T09:23:43.344-07:002023-05-08T09:23:43.344-07:00F301: “If to be “Elder”—mean most pain— / I’m old...F301: “If to be “Elder”—mean most pain— / I’m old enough, today, I’m certain”.<br /><br />F302: “It's like the Morning— / Best—when it's done— / And the Everlasting Clocks— / Chime—Noon!”<br /><br />F303: “Alone, I cannot be — / For Hosts [Hordes]— do visit me —"<br /><br />F304: “The nearest Dream recedes—unrealized— / The Heaven we chase, / Like the June Bee—”<br /><br />F305: “What if I say I shall not wait! / What if I burst the fleshly Gate— / And pass Escaped—to thee!”<br /><br />F306: “A shady friend—for Torrid days— / Is easier to find— / Than one of higher temperature / For Frigid—hour of Mind—“ <br /> <br />F307: “And I sneered—softly—"small"!”<br /><br />F308: “I breathed enough to take the Trick— / And now, removed from Air— / I simulate the Breath"<br /><br />ED has been telling us poem after poem that she is drowning in depression, to the point of suicide. She surfaced long enough for one quick breath, long enough to spew the venom of one destructive, sneered sarcasm, then, sacrificing that one breath in painful bubbles, she sank beneath the surface, back into hateful despair of lost love: <br /><br />F309: “Stab the Bird—that built in your bosom— / Oh, could you catch her last Refrain— / Bubble! "forgive"—"Some better"—Bubble! / "Carol for Him—when I am gone"!<br /><br />ED sewed these poems together, in Fascicle 14.<br />Larry Bhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02810899482852120751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-38688700696001788752020-07-19T14:11:40.354-07:002020-07-19T14:11:40.354-07:00Maybe, but 1862-1863 are ED's most productive ...Maybe, but 1862-1863 are ED's most productive years. But that doesn't mean that she didn't have stretches of doubting her work.<br /><br />The numbness reminds me of "After a great pain a formal feeling comes" so I read the poem as a response to a blow or pain of some kind.<br />Susan Kornfeldhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05384011972647144453noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-46715337889671306322020-07-19T07:04:45.669-07:002020-07-19T07:04:45.669-07:00Did ED ever suffer writers bloc? Temporary distan...Did ED ever suffer writers bloc? Temporary distance from the force of her Muse? She might have been lamenting her feeling of abandonment of her inspiration/muse, being removed from air, and that her work had become automatic/simulation of true inspired work. She might have won (taken the trick) momentarily, but only at a game - a mere simulation of life/inspiration/her truest work. She must have doubted her work at times, wondering if it were not a pantomime of those “white heat” moments when inspiration took over her like a trance. Pphttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01023162636086533197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-58797311112751372562014-12-15T20:24:24.138-08:002014-12-15T20:24:24.138-08:00The notion of "trick" as in a hand of ca...The notion of "trick" as in a hand of cards hadn't occurred to me -- but really helps my understanding of this poem. Your point about agency is well taken. She is playing and succeeding – and noticing and reporting. Re-reading this poem I am once again impressed by it. Thanks for the comment.Susan Kornfeldhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05384011972647144453noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-37940117333626860372014-12-15T19:38:42.492-08:002014-12-15T19:38:42.492-08:00While I agree that this poem resonates with other ...While I agree that this poem resonates with other frightening poems in her canon ("funeral in my brain" comes to mind &there are quite a few others, it is important not to overlook the speaker's agency in the first line, the reference to taking a trick. This seems to be not about some slight of hand but about winning a hand of cards. The poem this most reminds me of, oddly, is "The Soul selects," that similar opening line in which the speaker is an agent, making a choice, winning. In that poem too, as here, she then closes "the Valve of her attention/ Like Stone." But she is choosing this stance. Like "Split the Lark," say, she knows what is concealed within, for whoever might either "descend" or be let in. I do not mean to minimize the depression and numbness; rather I lift up the conscious agency.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com