Meanwhile, in Bizarro-World (I mean, SFGate.com), Billy Collins is being compared to Proust.
Like Proust (another master explorer of boredom's fugue states), Collins seizes on the memory-laden craft item as a connective to his youth and the uncountable emotional debts he owes his mother. "I was as sure as a boy could be," he writes, "that this useless, worthless thing I wove/out of boredom would be enough to make us even."
Feh. Everyone knows the best poetic statement on boredom is Berryman's Dream Song 14. Mother issues indeed.
Anyhoo, I will return tonight with a reading review of yesterday's fractious Frequency series, and two, count-em-two, new NaPoWriMo poems. I know. I'm one behind. But I like totally wrote the missing one out in my notebook yesterday. Swearsies.
posted by Reen |link| 0 comments
