Of Mere Being – wallace stevens

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  • #105994
    Avatar photowv
    Participant

    I like this poem.
    w
    v

    ==============
    Of Mere Being
    By Wallace Stevens

    The palm at the end of the mind,
    Beyond the last thought, rises
    In the bronze decor,

    A gold-feathered bird
    Sings in the palm, without human meaning,
    Without human feeling, a foreign song.

    You know then that it is not the reason
    That makes us happy or unhappy.
    The bird sings. Its feathers shine.

    The palm stands on the edge of space.
    The wind moves slowly in the branches.
    The bird’s fire-fangled feathers dangle down.

    #106012
    Avatar photoBilly_T
    Participant

    Not sure if you remember this, WV. But old Wallace Stevens is among my favorite poets, evah. I think he was, in fact, the greatest American poet of the 20th century, and in the running for greatest English language poet of that century.

    I have his collected poems and prose, in a fine edition from The Library of America, plus this or that paperback. And recently purchased and read a really great bio by Paul Mariani.

    I recommend it highly:

    https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/The-Whole-Harmonium/Paul-Mariani/9781451624380

    #106056
    Avatar photowv
    Participant

    Yeah, i remembered how much you like him, BT.

    I saw that poem in a bird book I’m skimming, called Life of the Skies, by Jonathan Rosen:
    —————–
    “…the fact that the bird is not singing for the benefit of the human listener, is oddly not disheartening; it’s proof that something new and strange is there….
    …..the bird is simply there– alien, but the fact that it is alien is oddly a sign of hope,,,,
    …Stevens conjures in a very cerebral poem, the opposite of thought. Just as he creates, despite the weird chilliness of the poem, a kind of comfort. The sort of comfort that comes from encountering reality–even harsh reality, even death.”
    —————

    …somehow, some of that resonates with how i feel about the whole ‘situation’ we find ourselves in theze days…

    w
    v

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