Ah, Millay... & ah, Ellen Gilchrist for Anna Hand: "I cannot get you close enough I said to him, pitiful as a child. And never can and never will..." and so on.
And ah, to the emuists with their tiny beds and the girls that do not forget them but sleep in the groove of their forms for years after that bird/bed have fled. Anna gets it: why the best girls will curl around the emuist and the memory of the emuist in a bed too tiny for most but a baby bear bed to the right girl. Anna & Edna & me agree: have heart, Sweet-Tart, your Goldilocks is out there.
2 comments:
So cute, we're blogging! Are you reading in the ATL? Just bought a home here in Madison...I'm settling down, giving up poetry...
Well, okay...poetry has been a mega-cruel mistress these days. A big part of me says "fuck no" to the ATL, but I know there's good peeps there--and if you're there, and reading, I need to see that.
It's been too long Ms. K.
Way too long... Be there, I don't know if I'm reading, but I'm signing books and I am so happy that we're back in some sort of contact.
Poetry can be like, whips and all. But she hurt so good, too.
Take care G
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