Fall. Everyone is back in school, the house is empty & I've been fortunate enough to borrow some books that engage me to the nth degree. I give thanks to the book lending gods that happen upon my way. Last week Jack Gilbert's Monolithos gave my mind motion. Love this:
Poetry Is A Kind Of Lying
Poetry is a kind of lying,
necessarily. To profit the poet
or beauty. But also in
that the truth may be told only so.
Those who, admirably, refuse
to falsify (as those who will not
risk pretensions) are excluded
from saying even so much.
Degas said he didn't paint
what he saw, but what
would enable them to see
the thing he had.
2 comments:
Just found one of my students have stolen The Great Fires, so reordered it and Refusing Heaven. Really liked his reading and interview on NPR for that book.
My copy of Refusing Heaven has gone missing, too. I love Gilbert.
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