tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21999805.post1393410227437057316..comments2024-03-27T06:25:29.002-05:00Comments on Anecdotal Evidence: `To See What Is Really There'Patrick Kurphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08436175583386298032noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21999805.post-90581155581794725882022-06-23T13:39:55.432-05:002022-06-23T13:39:55.432-05:00It is odd that The Sonnets (Penguin) says Religio ...It is odd that The Sonnets (Penguin) says Religio Medici, 1643 was included in the collection In Praise of Darkness, (1969) when it was actually in El oro de los tigres, (1972). Thank you very much for posting the Reid translation of this wonderful poem, which I have not been able to find anywhere. Do you have any idea what he means by "an unknown Spaniard"? I get the Montaigne and Browne references, but can't imagine who he means. Thanks!Adminhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07866481859399604644noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21999805.post-30792737308448181292010-07-29T11:16:13.513-05:002010-07-29T11:16:13.513-05:00Also, I love the Burchfield quote. As I often say,...Also, I love the Burchfield quote. As I often say, the birds sing in America and cry in China. <br /><br />The other side of it -- and I'll include poor Mary Oliver in this too -- is the tendency to describe things with such clinical detachment one might as well be talking about wallpaper. Here's how Ms. Oliver describes a place near to Mr. Burchfield:<br /><br />"CLIMBING THE CHAGRIN RIVER<br /><br />We enter<br />the green river,<br />heron harbor,<br />mud-basin lined<br />with snagheaps, where turtles<br />sun themselves--we push<br />through the falling<br />silky weight<br />striped warm and cold<br />bounding down<br />through the black flanks<br />of wet rocks--we wade<br />under hemlock<br />and white pine--climb<br />stone steps into<br />the timeless castles<br />of emerald eddies,<br />swirls, channels<br />cold as ice tumbling<br />out of a white flow--<br />sheer sheets<br />flying off rocks,<br />frivolous and lustrous,<br />skirting the secret pools--<br />cradles<br />full of the yellow hair<br />of last year’s leaves<br />where grizzled fish<br />hang halfway down,<br />like tarnished swords,<br />while around them<br />fingerlings sparkle<br />and descend,<br />nails of light<br />in the loose<br />racing waters."<br /><br />I read this, and I wonder what the hell is being described, I guess so I'm confused enough to not ask impertinent questions like "is it really possible to climb a river?" "how do rocks have flanks?" "what are grizzled fish?" "do nails of light hurt you?"WAShttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10403669322174979974noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21999805.post-9574196038842401432010-07-29T11:02:23.895-05:002010-07-29T11:02:23.895-05:00I bought the Borges book a little over a month ago...I bought the Borges book a little over a month ago, and love it. I re-translated one of them after some online parlor trick told me the writer I most resembled was James Joyce (?). <a href="http://billsigler.blogspot.com/2010/07/james-joyce.html" rel="nofollow">Check it out.</a>WAShttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10403669322174979974noreply@blogger.com