Perhaps this sounds like something George Jones would have written after a bender but actually I’ve been listening to a lot of sprightly 60s pop music lately. I feel guilty about short poems like this not so much because of lost love as the short rush they give me of accomplishment when in fact I’m bearing down on a 100 poems without a single magnum opus—something where you hold a thought together for 3 pages or more—a “Sunday Morning” or “Lycidas,” say. Speaking of which, as magnum opuses go, what is your all-time favorite?
Star Study
The solitude of stars
Is just their distance set
But I’ve seen that distance
In a face and felt it
In my soul, a wonder
Of the faraway beyond
A voice or touch,
In her eyes
The light of love
A trillion miles
Away.
Perhaps this sounds like something George Jones would have written after a bender but actually I’ve been listening to a lot of sprightly 60s pop music lately. I feel guilty about short poems like this not so much because of lost love as the short rush they give me of accomplishment when in fact I’m bearing down on a 100 poems without a single magnum opus—something where you hold a thought together for 3 pages or more—a “Sunday Morning” or “Lycidas,” say. Speaking of which, as magnum opuses go, what is your all-time favorite?
Star Study
The solitude of stars
Is just their distance set
But I’ve seen that distance
In a face and felt it
In my soul, a wonder
Of the faraway beyond
A voice or touch,
In her eyes
The light of love
A trillion miles
Away.
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What? Did you write this? It’s grammatical. It doesn’t suffer from any tourette-like outbursts or middle fingers. It’s lovely.
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Thanks.
“It doesn’t suffer from any tourette-like outburst or middle fingers…”
On the other hand, Al Pacino did very well with that.
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