[lit-ideas] Re: OFF LIST Re: Re: Poetry be damned.
- From: "Mike Geary" <atlas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Mon, 23 Jan 2006 00:16:06 -0600
Carol:
I think you pressed the wrong keys. I'm not Ursula. I sure wouldn't mind if
you considered me a dear person, Mike. Actually, I wouldn't mind being
called Ursula, either.
: ) You ARE a dear person, Carol. And yes, I flubbed up sending a private
message to the list. It's not the first time. I'll never forget when Anna
Brailovsky once forwarded a message from someone on the old Phil-Lit (I'll
never tell who) to a friend and called the person who had sent the original
message "a fascist asshole" -- only she sent it to the list!! Talk about
apologies!!! I have yet to seriously embarrass myself, which is pretty
remarkable.
Carol is one of the few list members that I've met in person. That was when
she was living in Berkeley and my son lived in San Francisco. I also met
Anna when she visited Seattle when I lived there, her husband's family
lived there. Hmmm. I've only met women from the list. But I was supposed
to meet David Savory at Seattle's Bumbershoot a few years ago, we were to
meet by the corn dog wagon : ) -- I was there, but late, which didn't matter
because his girl friend at the time didn't like corn dogs or something like
that. So it's not that I'm such a lecher that I've only met women.
My apologies to the list for misdirecting my post to Ursula. I like the
name Ursula also. Means "bear" I'm guessing. I've had a special liking for
the name ever since reading Wallace Stevens magnificent poem, "CY EST
PORTRAICTE, MADAME STE URSULE, ET LES UNZE MILLE VIERGES"
Ursula, in a garden, found
A bed of radishes.
She kneeled upon the ground
And gathered them,
With flowers around,
Blue, gold, pink, and green.
She dressed in red and gold brocade
And in the grass an offering made
Of radishes and flowers.
She said, "My dear,
Upon your altars,
I have placed
The marguerite and coquelicot,
And roses
Frail as April snow;
But here," she said,
"Where none can see,
I make an offering in the grass,
Of radishes and flowers."
And then she wept
For fear the Lord would not accept.
The good Lord in His garden sought
New leaf and shadowy tinct,
And they were all his thought.
He heard her low accord,
Half prayer and half ditty,
And He felt a subtle quiver,
That was not heavenly love,
Or pity.
This is not writ
In any book.
****
Mike Geary
Memphis
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