tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377252801421681569.post7355452435708701852..comments2023-10-28T04:53:32.505-07:00Comments on View From The Northern Wall: I Am Not Sadchristopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04201537517464996231noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377252801421681569.post-85871808418697165842012-08-06T02:40:04.518-07:002012-08-06T02:40:04.518-07:00This is odd, but familiar. I do have a leaping he...This is odd, but familiar. I do have a leaping heart. It is just strange that my heart leaps towards you with that burst of recognition of kindred and articulate spirit that has me saying that I love you. Because you are a poet and these barriers reveal only our hearts I dare to say this. I know it isn't true in the durable sense, how could I know that? But in the sense I love a flower, a bug, a poem, entire, glorious, miraculous. In poetry, we express miracles, if we find the way. It is like birdsong how it emerges, bringing Tiphareth to Malkuth.Meatboynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377252801421681569.post-37588874131643405072012-08-03T10:12:08.673-07:002012-08-03T10:12:08.673-07:00I guess you don't believe the title of the poe...I guess you don't believe the title of the poem then. The title could only be a bluff, I suppose, spoken in the face of implacable forces. On the other hand, the title could ask of me if I could find a way to experience a fangless snake who has shed so many times he no longer feels real and has become a fool but is not sad about it all.<br /><br />In other words, can I be not sad about getting old? I am not sad. I fit in my own fresh skin, fresh fantasy, a supple shadow, happy to be God's chosen old fool. This is still true. I wrote the poem in 2008. This is 2012. Rumors that I am getting old have been confirmed.christopherhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04201537517464996231noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377252801421681569.post-51650181614680621702012-08-02T22:58:30.626-07:002012-08-02T22:58:30.626-07:00Christopher, after reading about your work situati...Christopher, after reading about your work situation (ugh, good luck), the poem struck me as sort of helpless. The snake sheds its skin in the natural course of things, but fangless? No venom? That's sad for the snake, an unnatural state of being. Kind of like being 67 and unable to retire. Peace, AmySharp Little Pencilhttp://sharplittlepencil.comnoreply@blogger.com