Really lovely, Sam. The imagery is superb, but I particularly enjoy the last stanza and how you describe the morning glories and the castled hill. So good.
I love how multi-faceted the imagery is here. Time is almost instantaneous (the axe on the tongue), then qualified with thick slowness (eventually. . .). And just when the reader is convinced the tongue is a symbol of language, the sense of taste comes in. After categories collide, it rises to what feels like a mystic vision, concretely surreal. Beautifully done.
I had to Google "Ipomoea alba" and once I saw a picture of the moonflower, the last stanza unlocked, and I reread the entire poem. Is it about linguistic relativity? And the meaningless of trying to apprehend the natural world while claiming it is unhinged from truth claims? (A certain level of obscurity seems intentional.) There were echoes of biblical language that pulled me along from image to image. I would love to hear any analysis you are willing to share.
Thank you, Abigail. You are the best sort of reader! Honoured that you found the piece interesting enough to dig. Your instincts are largely accurate: while I hold that the only true answer to the "about" question would be to state the living poem again, you've zeroed in on the secret life of the images, as best I understand them. Language, and also history. The moon's strangeness and diffusion of sunlight inexorably contributing to a manifold Order despite appearances and our ignorance, etc... Hope that helps or is at least interesting!
There's something pleasing about the three "that" phrases that end the poem:
"the central turning hand
that crenellates the hills, that buttresses the roads
that wind around and through the tower gardens..."
I can't quite articulate why, but it is very nice.
I have no idea what it means, but I really, really enjoyed the language in the first two stanzas: sinewy
Really lovely, Sam. The imagery is superb, but I particularly enjoy the last stanza and how you describe the morning glories and the castled hill. So good.
I love how multi-faceted the imagery is here. Time is almost instantaneous (the axe on the tongue), then qualified with thick slowness (eventually. . .). And just when the reader is convinced the tongue is a symbol of language, the sense of taste comes in. After categories collide, it rises to what feels like a mystic vision, concretely surreal. Beautifully done.
Such excellently strong language.
Thank you Joffre—honoured that you appreciated the language.
Gorgeous . . . and I don't believe I've ever seen so many prepositions in one place.
Thank you Peter! If I had a clever catchphrase, it would be "I have a preposition for you..."
I had to Google "Ipomoea alba" and once I saw a picture of the moonflower, the last stanza unlocked, and I reread the entire poem. Is it about linguistic relativity? And the meaningless of trying to apprehend the natural world while claiming it is unhinged from truth claims? (A certain level of obscurity seems intentional.) There were echoes of biblical language that pulled me along from image to image. I would love to hear any analysis you are willing to share.
Thank you, Abigail. You are the best sort of reader! Honoured that you found the piece interesting enough to dig. Your instincts are largely accurate: while I hold that the only true answer to the "about" question would be to state the living poem again, you've zeroed in on the secret life of the images, as best I understand them. Language, and also history. The moon's strangeness and diffusion of sunlight inexorably contributing to a manifold Order despite appearances and our ignorance, etc... Hope that helps or is at least interesting!
Yes! This is so interesting and helpful. Thank you for your thoughtful reply, Sam.