This week's link will lead you to a great article in The Paris Review's blog about the poem Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy's Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota. In the article, Dan Piepenbring provides a number of different possible solutions to the enigmatic last line in James Wright's poem.
Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
Blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
Down the ravine behind the empty house,
The cowbells follow one another
Into the distances of the afternoon.
To my right,
In a field of sunlight between two pines,
The droppings of last year’s horses
Blaze up into golden stones.
I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.
I have wasted my life.
http://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2015/06/23/i-have-wasted-my-life/
What I wonder about is how Wright arrived at that last line. Do you think it is possible to write toward such a surprise? Did the line happen as if by poetry magic? I'm interested in the whole question of writing with intention. Most of the time I try not to do that. But of course, all my prompts and word lists produce their own form of intention.
What do you think?
Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
Blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
Down the ravine behind the empty house,
The cowbells follow one another
Into the distances of the afternoon.
To my right,
In a field of sunlight between two pines,
The droppings of last year’s horses
Blaze up into golden stones.
I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.
I have wasted my life.
http://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2015/06/23/i-have-wasted-my-life/
What I wonder about is how Wright arrived at that last line. Do you think it is possible to write toward such a surprise? Did the line happen as if by poetry magic? I'm interested in the whole question of writing with intention. Most of the time I try not to do that. But of course, all my prompts and word lists produce their own form of intention.
What do you think?
It puts me in mind of one of my poems where I was writing about Christmas, the banality of some of it and yet, and yet.....and the last line that came out of nowhere was "I am my own ever-greenery and candle." I can imagine "I have wasted my life" coming, like that, unbidden, an astonishment.
ReplyDeleteYes indeed. I like your last line from your Christmas poem. "ever-greenery" is particularly nice.
DeleteIt puts me in mind of one of my poems where I was writing about Christmas, the banality of some of it and yet, and yet.....and the last line that came out of nowhere was "I am my own ever-greenery and candle." I can imagine "I have wasted my life" coming, like that, unbidden, an astonishment.
ReplyDelete