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Happy Birthday, ED!
Posted by: Pam Adams (134.71.192.---)
Date: December 10, 2003 02:47PM

And today's birthday poet is Emily Dickinson.

pam

TO venerate the simple days
Which lead the seasons by,
Needs but to remember
That from you or me
They may take the trifle
Termed mortality!

To invest existence with a stately air,
Needs but to remember
That the acorn there
Is the egg of forests
For the upper air!
--Emily Dickinson


Re: Happy Birthday, ED!
Posted by: Marian-NYC (---.nyc1.dsl.speakeasy.net)
Date: December 10, 2003 03:29PM

Not BY Emily, but "for" her (on her birthday):


Like Emily Dickinson (1968)
By "Dusty"

Like Emily Dickinson
tucking tight little poems
into the corners and crannies
of her father's home
I tuck their names
into the crevices
of my crenellated heart.

Lonnie from Tennessee
smiling A-K amp
"Don't mean nothin',
I got another one"

Danny from LA
unable to see
the last dawn we shared

Chief the Ute
willing himself to die
since he could not
will himself to live
a partial man

Pocho from Arizona
who wanted only that
the last words he heard
be in his mother tongue
words rightfully spoken
by his mother who,
absent, became me

Skeets from somewhere
who asked me to sing
Amazing Grace
because his mother did

The boy with no name
no voice
no face

All these and more
I tuck away
later to peruse
perhaps to edit
perhaps to erase
at some leisure time
at penance time
sometime in a future
that leaves them behind

Emily in white,
I in green,
we do our work
endure and abide
tucking away the hurt
saving it for the time
when alcoves need airing
when corners need cleaning
when hearts need healing
when there are no more
empty corners
convenient to fill.

----------------------
1991 by Dusty
First appeared in Visions of War, Dreams of Peace, Warner Books, 1991.
Ed. Lynda Van Devanter and Joan Furey.


Re: Happy Birthday, ED!
Posted by: Hugh Clary (---.denver-03rh15rt.co.dial-access.att.net)
Date: December 10, 2003 03:52PM

Higgledy-piggledy
Emily Dickinson
Liked to use dashes
Instead of full stops.

Nowadays, faced with such
Idiosyncrasy,
Critics and editors
Send for the cops.
-- Wendy Cope


Re: Happy Birthday, ED!
Posted by: Pam Adams (134.71.192.---)
Date: December 10, 2003 04:08PM

There's a page of 'Responses to ED's Legacy' here. [www.iath.virginia.edu] Lots of good stuff!

pam


Re: Happy Birthday, ED!
Posted by: J.H.SUMMERS (---.chartertn.net)
Date: December 10, 2003 06:25PM

My favorite by Ed is:

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 't is centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

john


Re: Happy Birthday, ED!
Posted by: StephenFryer (---.cl2.dsl.pol.co.uk)
Date: December 10, 2003 06:40PM

Taking Off Emily Dickinson's Clothes

Billy Collins


First, her tippet made of tulle,
easily lifted off her shoulders and laid
on the back of a wooden chair.
And her bonnet,
the bow undone with a light forward pull.

Then the long white dress, a more
complicated matter with mother-of-pearl
buttons down the back,
so tiny and numerous that it takes forever
before my hands can part the fabric,
like a swimmer's dividing water,
and slip inside.

You will want to know
that she was standing
by an open window in an upstairs bedroom,
motionless, a little wide-eyed,
looking out at the orchard below,
the white dress puddled at her feet
on the wide-board, hardwood floor.

The complexity of women's undergarments
in nineteenth-century America
is not to be waved off,
and I proceeded like a polar explorer
through clips, clasps, and moorings,
catches, straps, and whalebone stays,
sailing toward the iceberg of her nakedness.

Later, I wrote in a notebook
it was like riding a swan into the night,
but, of course, I cannot tell you everything -
the way she closed her eyes to the orchard,
how her hair tumbled free of its pins,
how there were sudden dashes
whenever we spoke.

What I can tell you is
it was terribly quiet in Amherst
that Sabbath afternoon,
nothing but a carriage passing the house,
a fly buzzing in a windowpane.

So I could plainly hear her inhale
when I undid the very top
hook-and-eye fastener of her corset

and I could hear her sigh when finally it was unloosed,
the way some readers sigh when they realize
that Hope has feathers,
that reason is a plank,
that life is a loaded gun
that looks right at you with a yellow eye.

--From Picnic, Lightning (University of Pittsburgh Press)

Stephen


Re: Happy Birthday, ED!
Posted by: marian2 (---.in-addr.btopenworld.com)
Date: December 11, 2003 04:23AM

I've been fighting it for some time, but I'm beginning to like Emily Dickinson. Not sure if it's a good thing or not - but she's growing on me. When I first saw 'I could not stop for Death' I hated it, now I like it. Should her work carry a health warning? Or has e-mule eroded my critical faculties beyond repair?


Re: Happy Birthday, ED!
Posted by: StephenFryer (---.bhm31.dsl.pol.co.uk)
Date: December 11, 2003 09:58AM

New verb: to emule.

I have been emuled = I am beyond hope.

I emuled her = I left her a gibbering wreck.

Stephen


Re: Happy Birthday, ED!
Posted by: Pam Adams (134.71.192.---)
Date: December 11, 2003 01:18PM

Hey, we gibbering wrecks resent that!

pam




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