01-12-2012, 10:00 AM
Even though you have, despite all, 'given the game away' a little, I shall choose (as a space) to see it the way I prefer. As scriptor, we have already established that you are powerless.
First, as there was a lot of talk about meaning, before the censors stepped in, I have read this, just as I would listen to some instrumental music, whether Bartok, Albinoni, or Britten. There is no purpose in asking oneself wtf does it mean in those cases-- yet, people the world over get something from it. Likewise, I should not stare at a work by,say, Ben Nicholson and ask the same question. With poetry, because of its nature, I have a choice.
Second, I liked the tone. How casual it was, lazy, conversational! Surely not pent-up rage, or anything of that sort --no, no. But, over-arching, perhaps, maybe, stuff which y--I mean, the scriptor, does not want to dig out, perhaps even scriptors have recesses, which they themselves are unaware of, while being all too aware of plenty. Yet, mainly, just the tone: no good reason.
Third, I read a number of times, and was most satisfied by just allowing it to hang, as the Arabs would say, and frequently did, like a necklace. On this necklace, are gems (pearls usually) which for me were the beginning lines: tilting and so on; the barbs of s.2, and the first two lines especially of s.3, the blood and implicit pain. (Waltz, maybe a bit cultural. For me, it smacked of cliche, as in " You come waltzing in here and think you can tell me what to do" and I wondered why Lethe needed an article; Keats did not bother his arse with one). Next gems on this particular 'unique necklace' are the mirror line, the suture and bloodied clothes line, no-one can gainsay that. No-one! It is an absolute! And finally, where I might have been tempted to finish, the 'fragmented honesty'.
Fourthly: so much for my approach, tone, and the gems. What might they add up to? There is blood, and pain; and a back too. It is not just in the mad Middle East that people thrash themselves till blood pours out, eg at Ashura, in memory of Ali; the Muslims, who adopted these ways first, were those who had conquered the old Persian lands, and there, Dualism was the religion, namely, Zoroastrianism. The great divide between the super spiritual, and the orthodox, replicates everywhere. So later we find Spanish mystics knocking seven bells out of themselves, just like some of their Muslim cousins. One always wonders just what the mix of sex, and religious fervour truly is-- but it surely goes with guilt. And with guilt goes secrets, or the divulging of secrets, and a preference for not digging up the past, in case of what one may find. A mirror may be a hateful thing, and the more so, if someone else is in that mirror -- but it may also be redemption, a final finding of honesty, after so many hidings away; even if, it cannot be a complete, frank and open honesty, but a fragmented one. The scriptor is not, of course, obliged to comment!
First, as there was a lot of talk about meaning, before the censors stepped in, I have read this, just as I would listen to some instrumental music, whether Bartok, Albinoni, or Britten. There is no purpose in asking oneself wtf does it mean in those cases-- yet, people the world over get something from it. Likewise, I should not stare at a work by,say, Ben Nicholson and ask the same question. With poetry, because of its nature, I have a choice.
Second, I liked the tone. How casual it was, lazy, conversational! Surely not pent-up rage, or anything of that sort --no, no. But, over-arching, perhaps, maybe, stuff which y--I mean, the scriptor, does not want to dig out, perhaps even scriptors have recesses, which they themselves are unaware of, while being all too aware of plenty. Yet, mainly, just the tone: no good reason.
Third, I read a number of times, and was most satisfied by just allowing it to hang, as the Arabs would say, and frequently did, like a necklace. On this necklace, are gems (pearls usually) which for me were the beginning lines: tilting and so on; the barbs of s.2, and the first two lines especially of s.3, the blood and implicit pain. (Waltz, maybe a bit cultural. For me, it smacked of cliche, as in " You come waltzing in here and think you can tell me what to do" and I wondered why Lethe needed an article; Keats did not bother his arse with one). Next gems on this particular 'unique necklace' are the mirror line, the suture and bloodied clothes line, no-one can gainsay that. No-one! It is an absolute! And finally, where I might have been tempted to finish, the 'fragmented honesty'.
Fourthly: so much for my approach, tone, and the gems. What might they add up to? There is blood, and pain; and a back too. It is not just in the mad Middle East that people thrash themselves till blood pours out, eg at Ashura, in memory of Ali; the Muslims, who adopted these ways first, were those who had conquered the old Persian lands, and there, Dualism was the religion, namely, Zoroastrianism. The great divide between the super spiritual, and the orthodox, replicates everywhere. So later we find Spanish mystics knocking seven bells out of themselves, just like some of their Muslim cousins. One always wonders just what the mix of sex, and religious fervour truly is-- but it surely goes with guilt. And with guilt goes secrets, or the divulging of secrets, and a preference for not digging up the past, in case of what one may find. A mirror may be a hateful thing, and the more so, if someone else is in that mirror -- but it may also be redemption, a final finding of honesty, after so many hidings away; even if, it cannot be a complete, frank and open honesty, but a fragmented one. The scriptor is not, of course, obliged to comment!