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Poetry is a method of thinking, unlike any other. After reading a poem, we are asked: How does it make you feel? A legitimate, but not the only, question. There is also: How does it make you think? A great poet persuades you, as deftly as a courtroom lawyer, of her argument.
The poem that convinced me of the logic of beauty was Wallace Stevens' iconic Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird. Recently, I stumbled across a stunning visual twist on the original poem. (Be sure to read the creator's notes, because he explains why he modified the last line slightly, plus other interesting tidbits.)
Several years ago, I also wrote an essay about the poem for a (failed) attempt to enter an MFA program. It's posted below.
Look at the images, wade through my essay (if you don't mind a bit of poetic analysis---Billy Collins, look away!) and of course, absorb the poem itself. Which convinces you most?
My money (all of it) is on the poem.
Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
I
Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.
II
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.
III
The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime.
IV
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.
V
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendos,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.
VI
Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.
VII
O thin men of Haddam,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the blackbird
Walks around the feet
Of the women about you?
VIII
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.
IX
When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.
X
At the sight of blackbirds
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.
XI
He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For blackbirds.
XII
The river is moving.
The blackbird must be flying.
XIII
It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.
And only if you would like more, here's a mini-essay I wrote about this poem. I'm no Kelly Fineman, but this is how I would analyze Stevens' argument:
The Logic of Beauty
“I do not know which to prefer/the beauty of inflections/or the beauty of innuendos,/the blackbird whistling/or just after.”
Likewise, I do not know which to prefer, the spare arguments of Stevens’ words, or the emotional reverberations of the empty spaces just after. The moving thing or the still? The beating black feathers or the enveloping white snow? The refraction of light by glass or the absorption of it in shadow? The poem as a whole or the poems within it?
Such are the questions posed by the logic of beauty, which leads us to an “indecipherable cause,” rather than a singular conclusion. In this realm, there's no positing of A, inferring of B, or proving of C. There's never a single blackbird, only thirteen ways of looking at it.
Thirteen, a prime number, can't be reduced to anything other than the one poem and the thirteen stanzas that compose it. Beauty, by this logic, cannot be divided, and so it reminds us of our own “involvement” in the “lucid, inescapable rhythms” of life.
The logic of beauty can clearly be seen in Stevens’ twelfth stanza:
“The river is moving./The blackbird must be flying.”
Two simple sentences, as clear as if Stevens had written “Theory A is true. Therefore, Theory B must also be true.” And yet, of course, a blackbird flying has nothing whatsoever to do with the movement of a river. Unless one argues with the logic of beauty.
By its rules, the river is indivisible from the blackbird. The movement of one draws up from the imagination the thought of the other. In the silence “just after” the stanza, the reader pictures the blackbird flying steadily, pulling---by the beat of his wings---the river into rhythmic motion, and she is convinced beyond doubt of the soundness of this argument.
The dark feathers and the glittering water, the bright sky and the muddy earth, the freedom of flight and the channeled path of water flow, every evidence points to the separateness of bird and water, and yet we believe in their connection. Stevens has used our own rational patterns of reasoning against us, and we find ourselves, not single-minded, but of “three minds:” considering not just the separate beauties of the river and the blackbird, but the unique, third beauty of what is created between them.
Over and over in his poem, in a series of crisp stanzas laid out like a set of new commandments, Stevens reminds us with such logic that we, even as we whirl in confused isolation, are part of an overreaching “pantomime.” He states it clearly in the fourth stanza:
“A man and a woman/are one./A man and a woman and a blackbird/are one.”
He implies it in the ninth:
“When the blackbird flew out of sight,/it marked the edge/of one of many circles.”
Even his choice of Haddam as the setting for his seventh stanza can be seen as more than just an elite town in Connecticut, for this Aramaic word means “piece, limb, member of the body.”
By the time the reader reaches the end of the thirteenth stanza, with the snow falling–a snow composed of unique crystals that nevertheless renders the landscape a swath of indivisible whiteness–she has begun to think in the logic of beauty herself.
There is no longer a barrier between her and the blackbird in the cedar-limbs. All around her is a lucid green light, and glass coaches with fearsome shadows travel the land. The bawds of euphony cry out to her, and everywhere, is it evening, all afternoon.
And she does not know which to prefer: herself, the poem, or what moves between them.
I love your thoughts on the "logic of beauty." Reading poetry, I get hijacked way too often by the analytical impulse, which seems to take me away from the poetry and the beauty.
(I just discovered another Billy Collins anti-analysis poem this week: "Workshop." It's at Poets.org, I think.)
TadMack said, on 4/25/2008 9:25:00 AM
Hah! "I'm no Kelly Fineman." That should SERIOUSLY be a phrase.
But -- you're channeling our girl pretty hard, even if you're *not* her. Wow.
Liz in Ink said, on 4/25/2008 9:26:00 AM
Oh, I'm swooning, Sara. I could sleep with this poem under my pillow, honestly. I've changed my mind over the years about which stanza is my favorite -- maybe IV, maybe V, maybe XIII -- but the overall effect is beauty, no analysis necessary. ('Tho yours is so lovely and poetical...)
eisha said, on 4/25/2008 10:52:00 AM
I do not know which to prefer, either: I love the poem, I love the visual interpretation, and I love your analysis too. I'll just take all three, thanks.
jama said, on 4/25/2008 11:47:00 AM
I've always loved this poem, but now I love it even more. Love the visual representation and your thoughts and analysis. All beautiful!
Kelly Fineman said, on 4/25/2008 9:20:00 PM
Lovely analysis, Sara. I think I prefer the blackbird-shaped holes after each of the segments. The blackbirds are so concrete as described, but for me it's the emotional resonance of the blackbirds that truly carries this poem to greatness.
Cloudscome said, on 4/26/2008 5:53:00 AM
"When the blackbird flew out of sight, It marked the edge Of one of many circles."
The first time I read this poem years ago the ninth stanza knocked me on my butt. I've never recovered.
Your analysis is great. You've brought out just what I love about poetry that I've never been able to say.
jules said, on 4/26/2008 5:25:00 PM
I like Billy Collins, really I do, but I think analysis--such as yours here--is under-rated. Good stuff. Why not talk about all the many interpretations offered up to us by the poet? The only bad kind of analysis is the kind that says: There's just one and only one way to see this poem.
Karen E. said, on 4/27/2008 8:25:00 AM
Billy Collins is like the pal you love and go out with for coffee ... the friend with whom you never have a conflict, because you always know exactly what he means. And he gets you, too, and you love him for that. And then you order more coffee and sigh and think, "If only everything could be this easy."
Wallace Stevens is like your inscrutable uncle, who isn't always kind, and sometimes doesn't seem to want you around, but who's so complex and interesting that you keep having him over. And when you pin him down on something, and whisper to your mother, who's sitting next to you, that now you know why he's like this, he smiles cryptically, and looks away.
Your coffee friend would, of course, be insulted at being analyzed, but your uncle practically begs for it. :-)
I finally had a chance to download my Christmas pictures and found something you may find sweet to look at.
My chocolate bark and chocolate covered pretzels. These are simply the easiest things to make. And when you arrange these chocolate pieces in a small box or cellophane bag with a festive ribbon, you've got an impressive gift to bring to friends, family and neighbors.
Jama Rattigan, I know these aren't cookies, but I think you'll enjoy these tantalizing morsels of goodness.
I made three kinds of chocolate bark and chocolate covered pretzels this year. White chocolate, milk chocolate and semi-sweet chocolate. Yum! Here's how to do it.
Note: First, as you all know, my middle child has a bunch of food allergies, two being dairy and nuts. So I make the semi-sweet chocolate goodies first. Just for her. She LOVES the semi-sweet chocolate covered pretzels the best.
If you have a loved one with food allergies, make sure the "safe" ingredients and "uncontaminated" cooking pans and utensils are kept separate from the rest of the food and cooking supplies. This is absolutely critical in my household. You'll be able to find semi-sweet chocolate, pretzel rods, jimmies, and some candies that is not manufactured near nuts or dairy. You may have to call the manufacturer directly to find out this information, if it is not specifically detailed on the food packaging. -------------------- Chocolate Bark Ingredients: 2 bags white chocolate chips 2 bags milk chocolate chips (if you can't find milk chocolate chips, then melt white chocolate chips and semi-sweet chocolate chips together until you get the milk chocolate flavor you like) 2 bags semi-sweet chocolate chips Crushed peppermint and/or spearmint hard candies or candy canes
Melt the chocolate chips over the lowest heat possible in separate pots. Stir each pot of chocolate chips until the chips have all melted. Line three cookie sheets with wax paper. Spread the melted white chocolate in one pan, melted milk chocolate in the second pan, melted semi-sweet chocolate in the third pan. Spread the chocolate to less than 1/2 inch thickness.
Quickly shake the crushed peppermints/spearmints or candy canes over the chocolate and press down. If you use the peppermint/spearmint combination over the white chocolate, you'll have a pretty red/green/white candy that's perfect for Christmas.
If you have any leftover chocolate, drizzle the white chocolate on top of the milk chocolate, drizzle milk chocolate on top of the white chocolate...get the picture? Place the chocolate someplace cool to harden--your refrigerator, your porch, etc.
Once the chocolate bark has hardened, break off pieces and store in an airtight container. This makes plenty to share with loved ones. Enjoy! ------------------------ Chocolate Covered Pretzels Ingredients: 1/2 bag white chocolate chips 1/2 bag milk chocolate chips 1/2 bag semi-sweet chocolate chips 2 bags of Rod pretzel sticks Colorful jimmies, sprinkles, colored sugars, mini chocolate chips, crushed candy canes, crushed toffee, crushed candy bars, mini marshmallows and anything else you'd like to try
Melt the chocolate chips in three separate pots over the lowest possible heat. Stir until the chocolate chips have melted. Line three cookie sheets with wax paper.
Take one pretzel rod and dip it into the chocolate. Use a spoon to distribute the chocolate evenly over the pretzel. Quickly cover the chocolate covered pretzel with any of the yummy toppings and then put on the wax paper lined cookie sheet. Take a spoon and drizzle chocolate on top of the toppings. Continue with the rest of the pretzels.
Place the cookie sheets somewhere cool until the chocolate hardens. These are amazing. The crunch, salt and sweet together is total, total joy.
6 Comments on Sweet Treats: Peppermint Sticks, Pretzels and Chocolate, last added: 1/2/2008
Now I know what I'm going to do with all these candy canes. Thanks and have a great New Year's!
jama said, on 12/29/2007 8:12:00 AM
Thanks for these yummy treats, Vivian. A nice balance for the cookie platter! I like the tips for dairy allergies, too. Happy New Year!!
Barrie said, on 12/29/2007 8:59:00 AM
Yummy! And thank you so much for the sunscreen website!!
Alkelda the Gleeful said, on 12/29/2007 10:15:00 AM
I love chocolate covered pretzels, but the last time I tried to make them (over ten years ago), the pretzels had a bit of a stale texture once they cooled. Does that ever happen with yours?
HipWriterMama said, on 12/29/2007 12:01:00 PM
M. Thompson, Hope you have fun making the chocolate covered pretzels. Happy New Year! -----
Barrie, You're welcome! Hope it works. Happy New Year! -----
Jama, Glad you liked these recipes. Happy New Year! -----
Alkelda, I haven't had the problem with the chocolate. I melt the chocolate very slowly and then let the chocolate gradually cool. So I think there is less chance to shock the chocolate. I know that the chocolate can get a white covering...which is totally okay to eat, but not as attractive.
Hope this helps. Happy New Year!
MotherReader said, on 1/2/2008 9:45:00 AM
Those pretzels sounds especially delicious. Yummmy.
Letters swallow themselves in seconds. Notes friends tied to the doorknob, transparent scarlet paper, sizzle like moth wings, marry the air. read the entire poem here
Where there was something and suddenly isn’t, an absence shouts, celebrates, leaves a space. I begin again with the smallest numbers. read the entire poem here
Isn't this poem amazing? I know it's not New Year's yet, but I thought this would be a good one to share. This poem made me think of last night's culinary experiment...
I really dislike those cold, damp to your bones types of days. Like yesterday. Perhaps it's a sign of getting older and suddenly despising anything that resembles gray in any form. Though there are always ways to brighten up the grays...add some color, create some sparkle, eat the perfect comfort food.
One of my favorite comfort foods is chicken pot pie. Doesn't matter whether it has a buttery piecrust with the right amount of crisp to it, or tender biscuits that crown the bubbling sauce of anticipation. It just sings comfort to me in any form.
When I first found out my middle child had severe food allergies, I didn't really think about the consequences of how I was going to feed my family yummy foods. At the forefront of my mind, was the panic of how I was going to feed my child so she can survive. She's allergic to so much.
And the idea of these two things--gustatory delights and basic survival foods--joining together in delicious harmony was one I doubted I could achieve. I mean, take away the eggs and dairy, and you've eliminated alot of tempting baked goods and some incredible main dishes. And when you have a husband who was brought up on everything homemade, enough rich goodness that he remembers as a child thinking he would never eat so well again in his life, well that's indication enough to make me realize how challenging it truly would be to make food everyone in our family can enjoy. Yup. Screwed.
Yesterday was the perfect day for chicken pot pie. Damp cold seeped in everywhere and left me chilled and hungry for some good old comfort food. I never made a chicken pot pie that my middle child could eat. Pretty much this was one of those dishes that was scrapped since it didn't exactly fit on our family's friendly foods list. Until I decided to do something about it. Now I'm not a big one for exact recipes, though I own quite a few cookbooks. I'm a pinch of this, handful of that type of gal. So all I can say, was this was an interesting experiment.
I decided a biscuit topping was the way to go today. Hearty and sustaining was my goal. I did it all. Mixed a roux, sauteed vegetables, shredded chicken, made biscuits, assembled it all together and then popped it in the oven. All made with tender loving care and no milk or butter.
And, look! Doesn't it look delicious? I was so excited, I had to take a picture to prove to everyone that dairy-free food can look good. The biscuits puffed up and browned nicely. They were tender and cooked all the way through...no mushy bottoms for me, thank you very much. And the sauce was quite tasty, thanks to some soymilk and chicken stock.
When my husband came home, he looked at my creation with much trepidation. I haven't always had success with old favorites. But after a taste, and then another mouthful, my husband announced, "Hey, this is pretty good! I'm kind of amazed."
Middle child was oh so happy. And it made my day.
Of course, my husband took full credit for this comforting masterpiece. "If I hadn't stimulated your creativity, we would be stuck eating the same old thing." Don't you just love it? -----------------------------------------
Oh, wow. A stunning poem AND pot pie. Perhaps you could cook this for Jama's Poetry Diner...have you seen her post today?
I love that line "I begin again with the smallest numbers."
Susan said, on 11/9/2007 6:26:00 AM
That looks divine.
jama said, on 11/9/2007 6:29:00 AM
Love the poem. I like that feeling of purging, then beginning anew.
You are so right about comfort food. Send some of that chicken pot pie my way, please.
Elaine Magliaro said, on 11/9/2007 7:07:00 AM
Vivian,
I like your choice of poem. I think it's most appropriate for this time of year. Naomi Shihab Nye is one of the best American poets writing today.
I enjoy eating, cooking, and reading about food. I can appreciate how difficult it must be for you and your daughter. I'm glad your dinner was a success.
One of my favorite "food" poems is Mark Strand's "Pot Roast." Have you ever read it?
Gina MarySol Ruiz said, on 11/9/2007 12:41:00 PM
Oh. my god!
This is astonishing!
"Letters swallow themselves in seconds." What a wonderful image that conjurs!
You know, my daughter in law loves my chicken pot pie but yours is just lovely and makes me want to take the rest of the day off and try making it and have her and the kids over to nosh and watch movies on this almost rainy day.
Thanks so much. You really brightened up my day.
Callipygia said, on 11/9/2007 3:21:00 PM
HWM- the potpie looks so good! Hurray.
Cloudscome said, on 11/10/2007 5:46:00 AM
This is so fabulous I can taste it. I knew you rocked already, but this put you over the top. Does that man of yours know what he is living with?
Kelly Fineman said, on 11/10/2007 7:01:00 AM
Thanks for sharing that poem, Vivian. It was really wonderful and meditative somehow.
And the chicken pot pie looks fabulous, although being in the mood to hit my own husband these days, I was in the mood to hit yours as well when he took credit (however small) for all your hours of hard work. Forgive me?
TadMack said, on 11/10/2007 10:48:00 AM
Naomi Shihab Nye's poetry makes my heart hurt -- so beautifully put.
HipWriterMama said, on 11/10/2007 11:20:00 AM
Cloudscome- I think I'll have to print this out and tape it everywhere my husband will pass by...
Kelly, Thanks for a good laugh. Husbands can be like that, can't they? I'm so glad I wasn't drinking anything when I read your comment. I would've either choked or spit everything out--too funny. Hee, hee.
If you're a regular reader, you know my middle child has severe food allergies. It has been an exhausting effort, at times, to keep up a positive outlook on this. I often think if she had been diagnosed with a medical condition that sounded more impressive, it would be easier for people to feel compassion.
Don't get me wrong. Most people are kind and do understand. It's just those times, when I hear grumblings from parents who are ticked off their child can't eat their favorite snack in school or bring in birthday cupcakes to the classroom because of those kids with food allergies. Or when I see the flash of annoyance streak across a person's face when I ask about the ingredients in a food or inquire about cross-contamination. Or when people who know about my child's severe food allergies get upset with me because I don't go to their homes. What they don't get, even though I explain it to them, is I don't go to their homes because they always have every dangerous food allergen in every possible form cooking, baking, frying all around my child. My child ends up needing medication to relieve the itchiness, hives and asthma.
All these little actions, even though I know aren't meant to be malicious in anyway, render me weak and anxious, hopeless of a normal life for my child. And when I think about a post I read back in April, I am sickened. I weep for the difficulty and bullying my child may experience as she grows older. To think this is all because of FOOD!
I urge you to take five minutes to watch these sweet children talk about their food allergies. Watch their beautiful faces. Look in their eyes. Listen to what they have to say. Please. It would mean the world to me. Thank you.
20 Comments on Living with Food Allergies, last added: 11/10/2007
Roz sent me over here--glad she did. I hear you loud and clear--come visit and you'll see just how much we have in common. ;-) We have to start a snowflake auction for a cure of our own.
Alkelda the Gleeful said, on 10/18/2007 2:17:00 PM
P.S. Change "who's" to "whose." I should always take care to proofread, especially when I'm incensed.
Alkelda the Gleeful said, on 10/18/2007 2:17:00 PM
HWM: There was a person's blog I stopped reading after her really snotty post about overprotection of children with peanut allergies. She said, "I've never heard such a preposterous notion," and the readers chimed in with their moral outrage as well. I posted something about a friend of mine who's son had to have the fire department called after he injested peanuts because (get this) he was having trouble breathing. I've had a number of heated conversations with grownups of a generation older than myself, too, who grumble about the "overprotection" of kids. I've explained to them, "This is not about my child breaking out in a rash on her cheeks and bottom after she has citrus. This is about children who could actually die if they eat peanuts."
While I admit I do get irked when people who have willingly chosen to partake of a different food lifestyle than mine act ungracious in my home (including the aversion to anything green that grew from the ground), I would never, ever be resentful or impatient with people who had food intolerances or allergies. I expect other people to display the same kind of tolerance and compassion that they'd want for themselves and their children.
Fiercely yours, Alkelda the Gleeful
HipWriterMama said, on 10/18/2007 3:04:00 PM
nowheymama- That video made me cry buckets. Last night I was looking on YouTube to see what I can find about food allergies. When I saw this video, I knew I had to share it with everyone.
M. Thompson - Thank you. I'm so glad you took the time to watch this. Thank you again.
Theresa - I just checked out your blog and will be visiting again. Here's to a cure.
Alkelda - I love the fiercely yours. I swear, one of these days, I will meet you. Your support does wonders. Thank you.
Sarah Amick said, on 10/18/2007 3:37:00 PM
As a mother of someone who has allergy induced asthma, this left me wondering how my daughter would feel if she were asked these questions? Aren't children just beautiful creatures? I am always taken back by the wisdom of their years. They mull things over more than we know!
HipWriterMama said, on 10/18/2007 4:00:00 PM
Sarah, I wish the best for your daughter. I know how tough it can be.
I agree with you. Children are simply incredible.
Jen Barney said, on 10/18/2007 6:03:00 PM
Thank you so much for this...
My six year old has severe peanut/nut allergies-allergy induced asthma & sports induced asthma. He is such a trooper about it- always asking before he eats it, even if it is his Mommy or Daddy giving it to him. Makes me want to cry!
Now that he is in school- lunch time is always in the back of my mind- Gym days are nerve racking for me. I am blessed that my husband is a teacher there. He checks to make sure everything is o.k. each day.
I hope others understand our little ones world. Again- thank you!
HipWriterMama said, on 10/18/2007 6:56:00 PM
Jen, You're lucky your husband can check in on your son. That must be such a relief.
It sounds like you've taught your son well--he's careful and confident enough to check his food. It is heartbreaking, but also empowering.
Best of luck.
Liz in Ink said, on 10/18/2007 8:24:00 PM
Man, this really packs a wallop. This is going DIRECTLY to four friends whose kids have severe allergies. Thanks, Vivian, and somehow I have the feeling that your daughter is going to have all the voice and ooomph she needs if people get snarky on her. With love xxxx
FrecklesandDeb said, on 10/19/2007 6:35:00 AM
This was a powerful piece. Wouldn't it be wonderful if kids didn't have to feel excluded because they can't eat what everyone else does.
At the school where I work, a guest from a museum carrying a suitcase of items from the Native American department brought nuts into our school as part of the native foods exhibit. Before we realized what was happening, three kids reacted from touching the items that had touched the nuts. Reactions ranged from a rash to major breathing difficulties. The other students got a huge lesson in what their friends had been living with. I haven't seen a peanut butter sandwich at school since!
HipWriterMama said, on 10/19/2007 8:46:00 AM
Liz, You are awesome. Thank you.
Freckles and Deb, That is scary! I hope the children were okay. Thank you for sharing this experience.
Rational Jenn said, on 10/19/2007 12:02:00 PM
Thanks--I am crying, too. I'm sending this to everyone I know, including my own parents, who still don't get it.
By the way, if you'd like to submit this post to our new Living With Food Allergies Blog Carnival, this would be a great addition. You can email me at (remove spaces and fix) rationaljenn AT gmail DOT com.
ChupieandJ'smama said, on 10/19/2007 5:09:00 PM
This video brings me to tears to my eyes every time I see it. Yes, my son has food allergies, but first and foremost, before I'm an allergy mom, I'm a MOTHER. And as a mother I don't understand why other mothers (or fathers) wouldn't want to help keep our children safe by protecting our children from one thing that can kill them...FOOD. As mother, I would do anything in my power to protect another child. Thank you for sharing your very heart felt post.
HipWriterMama said, on 10/20/2007 5:23:00 AM
Rational Jenn and Chupieandj'smama-Dealing with food allergies is tough, isn't it? Here's to hope and health to all the children and families who are touched by this illness. Peace.
daphne grab said, on 10/20/2007 7:42:00 AM
i'm completely horrified by that situation in conn and all the responses. what is wrong with people? my kids go a a nut-free school and i never thought twice about it- we just have out nuts at home, and never before school in case any got on their clothes. i know a bunch of public schools here in nyc are peanut free, including where my husband teaches, and i've never heard of anyone who resented it. that article really turns my stomach so thank you for the beautiful video to move me past it!
Camille said, on 10/21/2007 4:43:00 PM
A week ago, the Food Channel had an excellent program on the whole issue of food allergies and highlighted the problems families face while trying to protect their kids.
It was an excellent program. I am familiar with many of the challenges you all face but this program opened my eyes even more.
Cloudscome said, on 10/22/2007 6:07:00 PM
Those children are truly beautiful. I am celiac (can't tolerate any wheat, rye or barley) and live with the difficulty of not eating anything that doesn't have a label, as one boy said. It makes me sad to think about all the kids that have to be that careful about everything, everywhere they go. It's so scary! and hard to watch other kids eating stuff they can't have - I know that as a grown up and I wish no child had to feel that. The way so many kids nowadays are allergic to so much makes me think it must be environmental. It ought to be a wake up call to all of us. Thanks for posting this video.
Anonymous said, on 11/10/2007 11:36:00 AM
Here is another perspective to "chew on". In the history of our family NO one had any allergies to anything (not even "hay fever") until after we moved to US three decades ago then anything went including my nephew's anaphylactic allergy to peanuts which we noticed when he was less than 2 years old. Could this be due to the mouth full of mercury amalgams that his mother had been "shoved down her throat" when she was a kid in the US by her "friendly" dentist (perhaps explaining his noticeable Parkinson's for the last 10 years), and let's not forget the "over-educated" pediatrician who was generous in vaccinating the innocent baby numerous times before his first birthday. All of those accumulating toxic affects most likely caused the innocent baby to develop numerous allergies which is too long to list on this blog space.
How is it that in China and Africa there is almost NO incidence of peanut allergy where the kids "play" in the dirt and reap the fruits of their hard physical labor in the fields. Is it because they do not have the economic means nor the people to intoxicate everyone with toxic vaccines and amalgams for the genuine concern of "public health".
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I finally had a chance to download my Christmas pictures and found something you may find sweet to look at.
I love your thoughts on the "logic of beauty." Reading poetry, I get hijacked way too often by the analytical impulse, which seems to take me away from the poetry and the beauty.
(I just discovered another Billy Collins anti-analysis poem this week: "Workshop." It's at Poets.org, I think.)
Hah! "I'm no Kelly Fineman." That should SERIOUSLY be a phrase.
But -- you're channeling our girl pretty hard, even if you're *not* her. Wow.
Oh, I'm swooning, Sara.
I could sleep with this poem under my pillow, honestly.
I've changed my mind over the years about which stanza is my favorite -- maybe IV, maybe V, maybe XIII -- but the overall effect is beauty, no analysis necessary. ('Tho yours is so lovely and poetical...)
I do not know which to prefer, either: I love the poem, I love the visual interpretation, and I love your analysis too. I'll just take all three, thanks.
I've always loved this poem, but now I love it even more. Love the visual representation and your thoughts and analysis. All beautiful!
Lovely analysis, Sara. I think I prefer the blackbird-shaped holes after each of the segments. The blackbirds are so concrete as described, but for me it's the emotional resonance of the blackbirds that truly carries this poem to greatness.
"When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles."
The first time I read this poem years ago the ninth stanza knocked me on my butt. I've never recovered.
Your analysis is great. You've brought out just what I love about poetry that I've never been able to say.
I like Billy Collins, really I do, but I think analysis--such as yours here--is under-rated. Good stuff. Why not talk about all the many interpretations offered up to us by the poet? The only bad kind of analysis is the kind that says: There's just one and only one way to see this poem.
Billy Collins is like the pal you love and go out with for coffee ... the friend with whom you never have a conflict, because you always know exactly what he means. And he gets you, too, and you love him for that. And then you order more coffee and sigh and think, "If only everything could be this easy."
Wallace Stevens is like your inscrutable uncle, who isn't always kind, and sometimes doesn't seem to want you around, but who's so complex and interesting that you keep having him over. And when you pin him down on something, and whisper to your mother, who's sitting next to you, that now you know why he's like this, he smiles cryptically, and looks away.
Your coffee friend would, of course, be insulted at being analyzed, but your uncle practically begs for it. :-)