10.20.2011 - Sharing Metaphors in Poems

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    Ways of Knowing - October 20, 2011

    Attending: Aphrodite, Mickorod, Ataraxia, Pila, Calvino, Agatha,


    Bruce Mowbray: Hey, Mick!

    Bruce Mowbray: You're the early bird!

    Bruce Mowbray: Hey, Aph!

    Bruce Mowbray: You and Mick are the early birds!

    Aphrodite Macbain: Hi Mick, Hi Bruce

    Aphrodite Macbain: I'm making up for being late at other times...

    Aphrodite Macbain grins

    Aphrodite Macbain: Nice t shirt

    Aphrodite Macbain: I have brought quite a long poem and I hope it's OK

    Aphrodite Macbain: I'll wait for others

    Bruce Mowbray: I'm wearing it in memoriam for all the innocent animals that were killed in Ohio yesterday.

    Bruce Mowbray: Of course, it's OK that you brought a long poem.

    Aphrodite Macbain: ?!

    Aphrodite Macbain: what happened?

    Bruce Mowbray: I'm just hoping that folks will "do" the "limited" topic.

    Bruce Mowbray: Many exotic animals (48 to be exact) had to be shot. . . not too far from where I live.

    Bruce Mowbray: It's in the news.

    Aphrodite Macbain: were they in a zoo?

    Bruce Mowbray: they were a private collection of a man who released them all and then killed himself.

    Aphrodite Macbain: OMG

    Bruce Mowbray: I will find you a news copy.

    Aphrodite Macbain: no worries- I'll listen to the news this evening when I get home'

    Pila Mulligan: greetings

    Aphrodite Macbain: Hi Pila

    Bruce Mowbray: Hey, Pila!

    Pila Mulligan: hi Ags

    Agatha Macbeth: Hello folks

    Aphrodite Macbain: Hey aggers

    Bruce Mowbray: Hey, aggers!

    Agatha Macbeth: Agatha Macbeth waves and smiles

    Bruce Mowbray: Well, about an hour ago, Alfred sent all of us a message (through the WoK mailing list) saying that he didn't feel the topic had been sufficiently limited....

    Aphrodite Macbain: wonder if Cal is able to come

    Bruce Mowbray: so maybe we need to begin there. . .

    Bruce Mowbray: I'm really hoping that Cal will come, Aph.

    Aphrodite Macbain: Hmmm

    Aphrodite Macbain: I just thought it might be nice to show some poems where metaphor has been used well

    Bruce Mowbray: I thought that the group had reached consensus . . . but perhaps I am mistaken.

    Aphrodite Macbain: I don't think there was ever a vote Bruce

    Aphrodite Macbain: but there was no dissention when you suggested it

    Bruce Mowbray thinks. . . rather difficult to vote when folks are not at meetings. . . and when they don't respond to emails sent six days ago.

    Bruce Mowbray: OK.

    Bruce Mowbray: Thanks, aph.

    Aphrodite Macbain: yes exactly so we can never hope for consensus

    Bruce Mowbray: I went back and read the transcript carefully, and I thought that we had made a decision. . . that all were happy with.

    Pila Mulligan: consensus can arise from the lack of objection

    Aphrodite Macbain: but if there is disagreement it s/b voiced as soon as you send out a suggestion

    Bruce Mowbray: I agree with both of you. . .

    Bruce Mowbray: still waiting for others to arrive . . .

    Bruce Mowbray: but perhaps we should begin.

    Aphrodite Macbain: Do you have a poem Bruce?

    Bruce Mowbray: Yes, I do. . .

    Aphrodite Macbain: Pila, Aggers do you?

    Bruce Mowbray: but Pila was the first to "claim" a poem. . .

    Pila Mulligan: yes :)

    Aphrodite Macbain: :-)

    Aphrodite Macbain: yay

    Bruce Mowbray: perhaps Pila would begin. . . I hope.

    Agatha Macbeth: No sorry, forgot all about it

    Aphrodite Macbain: Here comes Ataraxia

    Ataraxia Azemus: :)

    Bruce Mowbray: Hey, Atari!

    Aphrodite Macbain: Hi

    Agatha Macbeth: Hello Atari

    Pila Mulligan: hi Atari

    Ataraxia Azemus: Hi everyone :)

    Mickorod Renard: Hi, sorry was away

    Pila Mulligan: wb Mick

    Mickorod Renard: :)

    Pila Mulligan: I can begin if you like, Bruce

    Bruce Mowbray: That would be great, Pila!

    Bruce Mowbray: Thanks.

    Pila Mulligan: I've always loved this poem, translated from Chinese -- it seems to me to convey the essence of meditation

    Pila Mulligan:

      A halo of light surrounds the world of the law.

      We forget one another, quiet and pure, altogether powerful and empty.

      The emptiness is irradiated by the light of the heart and of heaven.

      The water of the sea is smooth and mirrors the moon in its surface.

      The clouds disappear in blue space; the mountains shine clear.

      Consciousness reverts to contemplation; the moon-disk rests alone.


      [Empty Infinity from Richard Wilhelm's translation of The Secret of the Golden Flower]


    Agatha Macbeth: Ah yes, I like that

    Pila Mulligan: :)

    Ataraxia Azemus: Me too

    Aphrodite Macbain: Lovely. Very evocative. Peaceful

    Pila Mulligan: it is both literal and metaphorical

    Mickorod Renard: need to digest that one

    Pila Mulligan: I had a dream a week ago that led to an essay relating to it -- http://waysofknowing.kira.org/6Writings%2f%2fEssays/Poetry_in_Knowing

    Aphrodite Macbain: I wonder what he means by "the world of the law"

    Pila Mulligan: dharma, is my guess

    Aphrodite Macbain: ah -

    Aphrodite Macbain: it's filled with light

    Pila Mulligan: :)

    Pila Mulligan: hi Cal

    Aphrodite Macbain: and references to light

    Pila Mulligan: yes

    Ataraxia Azemus: Hi Cal :)

    Aphrodite Macbain: Hi Cal. GTSY

    Agatha Macbeth: Hello Cal

    Aphrodite Macbain: glad you could make it

    Calvino Rabeni: Hi everyone :)

    Bruce Mowbray: Really glad to see you Cal. Pila is telling us about his poem now.

    Aphrodite Macbain: Pila has just quoted a beautiful poem

    Mickorod Renard: it seems to suggest to me dropping preconceptions and attachments, being awakened to the pureness without the darkness

    Pila Mulligan: yes, the empty light

    Pila Mulligan: of form

    Mickorod Renard: yes

    Aphrodite Macbain: I like to concept of emptiness being filled with light

    Pila Mulligan: :)

    Bruce Mowbray: Perhaps my question is off-base, Pila, but how do you personally "connect" with the poem? Intuitive "knowing"?

    Aphrodite Macbain: I feel more comfortable with it when it's filled with light

    Aphrodite Macbain: good question Bruce

    Pila Mulligan: it reflects the essence of meditation experience to me, Bruce

    Mickorod Renard: maybe what darkens us is what we fill ourselves with

    Bruce Mowbray: ahhhh! Thanks!

    Pila Mulligan: knowing may be to freighted a term there, but it also may be the only term :)

    Aphrodite Macbain: can you explain that Mick?

    Ataraxia Azemus: I like the image that's often used to describe sunyata, of an open sky

    Pila Mulligan: seeing perhaps

    Pila Mulligan: :)

    Mickorod Renard: a bit like congestion of busy and pointless thoughts

    Bruce Mowbray: so, a contemplative knowing . . . (into the emptiness comes insight?)

    Ataraxia Azemus: Hi Boxy :)

    Agatha Macbeth: Hi Boxyboy

    Pila Mulligan: hi Alf

    Alfred Kelberry: hi :)

    Mickorod Renard: Hi Alf

    Bruce Mowbray: Please join us, Alfred.

    Aphrodite Macbain: an insight in the form of light

    Aphrodite Macbain: form

    Aphrodite Macbain: Hiya Boxy

    Bruce Mowbray: Pila is presenting his poem now. . .

    Aphrodite Macbain listens

    Agatha Macbeth baits her breath

    Aphrodite Macbain hands aggers a hook

    Mickorod Renard: cleaning the windows of one's mind

    Agatha Macbeth: ty

    Ataraxia Azemus: :)

    Aphrodite Macbain: yw

    Bruce Mowbray: The metaphors in your poem are powerful, Pila.

    Agatha Macbeth: Indeed

    Pila Mulligan gives Alfy a notecard

    Bruce Mowbray: It occurs to me that the only way to express such contemplative experience may be through metaphor.

    Pila Mulligan: I agree bruce, poetry is the appropriate vehicle for some communication

    Aphrodite Macbain: for me it clarifies things - using language that allows me to imagine what that emptiness might feel like

    Pila Mulligan: yes, evoking the feeling

    Aphrodite Macbain: offering new images to refer to

    Pila Mulligan: as opposed to a spec sheet :)

    Aphrodite Macbain: :-)

    Mickorod Renard: me too Aph, I need some guidance like that to reach it

    Bruce Mowbray: the "insight" that can be named is not the "true" insight? - - or am I doing an off-base paraphrase there?

    Pila Mulligan: :)

    Aphrodite Macbain: Being a visual person, a visual metaphor helps me understand a complex experience

    Pila Mulligan: a picture of a mountain is not a complete mountain

    Ataraxia Azemus: I think poetry may be a truer way of relating some aspects of our experience than flat descriptions

    Bruce Mowbray: The poem is beautiful - - and it speaks of beautiful experience.

    Bruce Mowbray: Oh I so agree with you, Atari.

    Ataraxia Azemus: :)

    Bruce Mowbray: Pila your essay is definitely recommended reading.


    Bruce Mowbray: Thanks for sharing it.

    Aphrodite Macbain: I don't think it is the only insight about emptiness but it gives me a new perspective on it

    Pila Mulligan: thank you, Bruce -- it came from a dream last week, we talked about it at Maxine's workshop

    Bruce Mowbray: yes, me too, Aph.

    Aphrodite Macbain: yes thanks Pila

    Pila Mulligan: :)

    Mickorod Renard: ty Pila

    Bruce Mowbray: Please say more, if you'd care to, Pila.

    Ataraxia Azemus: Yes, Aph

    Bruce Mowbray: or shall we move on to another poem - and another person?

    Calvino Rabeni: The "picture" develops in the mind of the reader through imagination, enabled by doing things like singing or reading the poem many times .. it can't be read like a newspaper article for information ... poetry is a different way of reading and knowing

    Pila Mulligan: well, I called it the Hegelian corpuscle dream -- a kind of animation of corpuscles going bout their business

    Aphrodite Macbain: It also allows me to understand Pila better and his feelings towards meditation

    Aphrodite Macbain: also

    Bruce Mowbray listens.

    Aphrodite Macbain: corpuscles and nerve endings

    Pila Mulligan: well, the poem, the dream summary and the essay pretty well exhaust my stuff

    Ataraxia Azemus: Yes, Cal....a more participatory way of reading, perhaps?

    Calvino Rabeni: yes enactive

    Calvino Rabeni: actually doing some re-creating perhaps

    Aphrodite Macbain: it's a creative way of approaching knowledge and experience

    Calvino Rabeni: walking onto the same path

    Bruce Mowbray: thanks so much for your offerings, Pila.

    Pila Mulligan: thank you

    Aphrodite Macbain: Aphrodite Macbain APPLAUDS!!!

    Bruce Mowbray: Would anyone else care to go next?

    Agatha Macbeth: yes, ty

    Bruce Mowbray: Aggers?

    Agatha Macbeth: Mm?

    Bruce Mowbray: did you want to go next?

    Agatha Macbeth: Er, no :p

    Bruce Mowbray: ok.

    Bruce Mowbray: the floor is open.

    Agatha Macbeth: Agatha Macbeth smiles

    Agatha Macbeth: Agatha Macbeth falls into the hole

    Aphrodite Macbain: Cal?

    Calvino Rabeni: I can

    Bruce Mowbray: Oh please do, Cal.

    Calvino Rabeni: This is a poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson

    Calvino Rabeni: The title is "The Apology"

    Calvino Rabeni: I removed one stanza to make it 16 lines

    Bruce Mowbray: ;-)

    Calvino Rabeni: It was hard to decide what to cut

    Aphrodite Macbain nods

    Calvino Rabeni: because it starts to seem like a body that needs all its parts

    Aphrodite Macbain: :-)

    Bruce Mowbray is so sorry to hear this.

    Calvino Rabeni: no poet adds much unnecessary to a poem

    Bruce Mowbray: can you give all of it to us, Cal?

    Aphrodite Macbain: yes

    Calvino Rabeni: OK it is 20

    Aphrodite Macbain: :-)

    Mickorod Renard: :)

    Bruce Mowbray: good -- the full poem, then.

    Calvino Rabeni:

       "The Apology" by Ralph Waldo Emerson


     Think me not unkind and rude,

     That I walk alone in grove and glen;

     I go to the god of the wood

     To fetch his word to men.


     Tax not my sloth that I

     Fold my arms beside the brook;

     Each cloud that floated in the sky

     Writes a letter in my book.


     Chide me not, laborious band,

     For the idle flowers I brought;

     Every aster in my hand

     Goes home loaded with a thought.


     There was never mystery,

     But 'tis figured in the flowers,

     Was never secret history,

     But birds tell it in the bowers.


     One harvest from thy field

     Homeward brought the oxen strong;

     A second crop thine acres yield,

     Which I gather in a song.


    Ataraxia Azemus: I feel too tired to soak it in....but I love that

    Bruce Mowbray: a wonderful poem.

    Mickorod Renard: very nice

    Aphrodite Macbain: Thanks Cal

    Agatha Macbeth: Yes, lovely

    Calvino Rabeni: YW

    Aphrodite Macbain: I love the lines: "Every aster in my hand

     Goes home loaded with a thought"

    Pila Mulligan: nice imagery

    Aphrodite Macbain: lovely metaphor - an aster loaded with thoughts

    Bruce Mowbray waits to hear from Cal how the metaphors informed his "knowing."

    Aphrodite Macbain: heavy, fecund, beautiful

    Calvino Rabeni: I think my favorite stanza is the last one, that speaks of the harvest that is possible through conscious "second sight"

    Mickorod Renard: I struggled with the last one

    Aphrodite Macbain: wonder what the second crop is

    Calvino Rabeni: It says that nature feeds our bodies, but can also feed our souls, if we contemplate, like the poem gives instructions for

    Calvino Rabeni: the harvest is all the "words' of the god of nature, that we can see through nature meditation

    Mickorod Renard: ahh, that makes sense

    Calvino Rabeni: It also suggests to see things in both a physical way, and a spiritual way

    Ataraxia Azemus: Ah, I love that :)

    Aphrodite Macbain: yes, that makes beautiful sense

    Pila Mulligan: and the 'apology' is to those unaware of the poet's insights

    Calvino Rabeni: I find poems reveal their meaning if I read them aloud may times

    Aphrodite Macbain: if we only have eyes to see this

    Aphrodite Macbain: or hear it.

    Bruce Mowbray: This age of "objective physical" science can perhaps learn to "see" from the past's nature poets - -  Wordsworth, Emerson. . .

    Calvino Rabeni: Yes it's an apology that his "work" is productive, but not in the world of the economy and labor

    Bruce Mowbray: a different way of knowing...

    Aphrodite Macbain: I find I look at things differently when they have been part of a metaphor.

    Aphrodite Macbain: a field is no longer a field

    Aphrodite Macbain: or, just a field

    Calvino Rabeni: Indeed, this is a different way of knowing

    Bruce Mowbray: Do you think the "song" (last word of the poem) refers to this poem itself?

    Pila Mulligan: it reminds me of Socrates' last words in Plato's 'Apology' ...

    Calvino Rabeni: different seeing, different eyes

    Aphrodite Macbain: yes

    Calvino Rabeni: what was that, Pila?

    Pila Mulligan: "The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways - I to die, and you to live. Which is better God only knows. "

    Calvino Rabeni: ty

    Pila Mulligan: :)

    Aphrodite Macbain: Socrates

    Bruce Mowbray: yes, Pila. . .

    Bruce Mowbray: There is MUCH in these metaphors. . . Did you wish to say more, Cal?

    Calvino Rabeni: I did think something different each time I read it

    Aphrodite Macbain nods

    Calvino Rabeni: for instance, do you think, it is necessary to have solitude to do this kind of seeing?

    Bruce Mowbray: the sign of greatness....

    Calvino Rabeni: Or could two people go an do it together and share knowledge

    Aphrodite Macbain: There are fewer distractions with solitude

    Bruce Mowbray: for me personally? yes solitude is necessary. . . but perhaps not for everyone.

    Pila Mulligan: Cal, it *helps* to have quiet and stillness and nature

    Pila Mulligan: it may not be a requirement

    Aphrodite Macbain: a combination can also work - ideas discussed followed by ideas thought about, followed by ideas discussed etc

    Mickorod Renard: I have found just less than a handful of people I could share with in my life

    Bruce Mowbray: I would love to have a friend with whom to share such experience. . . but don't.

    Aphrodite Macbain: maybe one is not enough

    Aphrodite Macbain: we need different minds to feed us

    Aphrodite Macbain: along with our own

    Bruce Mowbray: More from Cal?

    Calvino Rabeni: It also reminded me of "distributed cognition" theories .. the way the aster was able to be part of the language of knowing ... and that the clouds could accumulate their letters into a longer passage in a book of knowing

    Aphrodite Macbain: distributed cognition meaning things can represent different things?

    Aphrodite Macbain: many signifiers?

    Aphrodite Macbain: a rose is a rose isn't a rose?

    Bruce Mowbray: so the metaphors suggest sharing among different realms . . . that one thing can inform us of many things. . . (?)

    Calvino Rabeni: meaning thinking is distributed in the environment ... the asters are metaphors that have their own physical presence independent of a person, but in conversation

    Calvino Rabeni: the book, is the book of the world

    Aphrodite Macbain: book?

    Bruce Mowbray: wow. wonderful.

    Calvino Rabeni: Emerson is learning to read it ... which is a literary metaphor

    Calvino Rabeni: but it could also be described as a conversation

    Bruce Mowbray: and the poet is giving it back to us to read -- as a song.

    Calvino Rabeni: yes

    Aphrodite Macbain: with whom? the reader?

    Calvino Rabeni: that's an important part, Bruce?

    Calvino Rabeni: bringing it back to the world of humans

    Mickorod Renard: I guess, in this way of looking at nature and so forth, one can share a sort of communication with it and also see it in a more living and cohabitual way

    Calvino Rabeni: it's a return from something like a shamanic journey too

    Bruce Mowbray: oh yes. . . if it is possible to do so. and a poet can if anyone can.

    Pila Mulligan: Bruce, time runs short -- your poem?

    Bruce Mowbray: Only 15 minutes left. . . sry, but felt I should say that.

    Bruce Mowbray: How about Aph?

    Agatha Macbeth: Go for it Brucie!

    Bruce Mowbray: me?

    Agatha Macbeth: Yeah

    Pila Mulligan: :)

    Aphrodite Macbain: Hmm do your poem first and if there's time, I can quote mine

    Agatha Macbeth: Indeed

    Bruce Mowbray: ok

    Bruce Mowbray: Mine is quite similar to Cal's, in a way.

    Agatha Macbeth: :)

    Bruce Mowbray: Robert Frost's

         "Nothing Gold Can Stay"


     Nature's first green is gold

     Her hardest hue to hold.

     Her early leaf's a flower;

     But only so an hour.

     Then leaf subsides to leaf.

     So Eden sank to grief,

     So dawn goes down to day.

     Nothing gold can stay.


    Ataraxia Azemus: I've always loved this one

    Aphrodite Macbain: sigh

    Bruce Mowbray: -

    Bruce Mowbray: me too, Atari.

    Mickorod Renard: short but sweet

    Aphrodite Macbain: a sad little poem about letting go

    Agatha Macbeth: Mm, that's nice

    Bruce Mowbray: now that I've been studying a bit of Buddhism, I feel the "impermanence" spoken by poem.

    Pila Mulligan: lovely

    Ataraxia Azemus: Mm

    Bruce Mowbray: nothing gold -- fresh, young, shining,. . .

    Bruce Mowbray: can stay.

    Bruce Mowbray: not even a "bright shining" thought.

    Aphrodite Macbain: but along will come another one...

    Bruce Mowbray: no matter how pure or "gold"

    Agatha Macbeth: Like a bus

    Aphrodite Macbain: in life's cycle

    Pila Mulligan: form becomes weighted with substance

    Aphrodite Macbain laughs @aggers

    Bruce Mowbray: I feel the impermanence more than think it.

    Bruce Mowbray: I feel the "loss" of letting go -- and also the lightness of it.

    Mickorod Renard: yes, maybe a suggestion that one must let go, grasp the freshness only

    Aphrodite Macbain: like monks destroying a mandala after hours of making it

    Bruce Mowbray: wonderful images . . . natural images.

    Calvino Rabeni: 'Down' is unexpected metaphor for the rising sun and morning ... does it say something about things seeming most vivid at the moment of their change?

    Aphrodite Macbain: (I always kept a bit of the powder)

    Bruce Mowbray: look at the first sprout -- it is a flower,

    Ataraxia Azemus: :)

    Bruce Mowbray: but only so an hour.

    Bruce Mowbray: then it goes into green stem...

    Bruce Mowbray: no longer gold.

    Bruce Mowbray: so it is with everything.

    Aphrodite Macbain: but a dying leaf is usually the brightest

    Bruce Mowbray: So Eden fell to grief.

    Aphrodite Macbain: out with a blaze of glory

    Calvino Rabeni: And something about entering the world of commerce, the day, work, when innocence of Eden is lost to the practicalities of the ordinary world

    Bruce Mowbray: it's not gold, though, Aph.

    Aphrodite Macbain: umm true

    Pila Mulligan: :)

    Calvino Rabeni: this could be seen similar to 'The Apology' in that way

    Bruce Mowbray: perhaps important not to take the metaphors too literally

    Calvino Rabeni: two ways of looking and valuing

    Bruce Mowbray: yes, very similar, Cal.

    Bruce Mowbray: Only 9 minutes left.

    Pila Mulligan thinks there is still time for Aph's poem

    Bruce Mowbray: I want to hear others' poems

    Aphrodite Macbain: Ok

    Aphrodite Macbain: I will post in 3 bits

    Mickorod Renard: everything is relative, even something dying has its beginning and end

    Pila Mulligan: :)

    Agatha Macbeth: Do we all turn into pumpkins at 3 PM?

    Aphrodite Macbain: "The Lemon Trees"

     By Eugenio Montale (1896 - 1981) was an Italian poet, prose writer, editor and translator, winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1975.


     Listen: the laureled poets

     stroll only among shrubs

     with learned names: ligustrum, acanthus, box.

     What I like are streets that end in grassy

     ditches where boys snatch

     a few famished eels from drying puddles:

     paths that struggle along the banks,

     then dip among the tufted canes,

     into the orchards, among the lemon trees.


     Better, if the gay palaver of the birds

     is stilled, swallowed by the blue:

     more clearly now, you hear the whisper

     of genial branches in that air barely astir,

     the sense of that smell

     inseparable from earth,

     that rains its restless sweetness in the heart.

     Here, by some miracle, the war

     of conflicted passions is stilled,

     here even we the poor share the riches of the world—

     the smell of the lemon trees.


     See, in these silences when things

     let themselves go and seem almost

     to reveal their final secret,

     we sometimes expect

     to discover a flaw in Nature,

     the world's dead point, the link that doesn't hold,

     the thread that, disentangled, might at last lead us

     to the center of a truth.

     The eye rummages,

     the mind pokes about, unifies, disjoins

     in the fragrance that grows

     as the day closes, languishing.

     These are the silences where we see

     in each departing human shade

     some disturbed Divinity.


     But the illusion dies, time returns us

     to noisy cities where the sky is only

     patches of blue, high up, between the cornices.

     Rain wearies the ground; over the buildings

     winter's tedium thickens.

     Light grows niggardly, the soul bitter.

     And, one day, through a gate ajar,

     among the trees in a courtyard,

     we see the yellows of the lemon trees;

     and the heart's ice thaws,

     and songs pelt

     into the breast

     and trumpets of gold pour forth

     epiphanies of Light!


     (translated by William Arrowsmith, Cuttlefish Bon


    Ataraxia Azemus: I love that....thank you, Aph :)

    Calvino Rabeni: Very nice .. I can see the human / nature relationship in this poem too .. this one is very inviting to a direct experience

    Agatha Macbeth: ty Aph

    Aphrodite Macbain: My favourite is the middle stanza - see in these silences when things let themselves go and seem almost to reveal their final secret

    Pila Mulligan: "even we the poor share the riches of the world" ")

    Calvino Rabeni: nods

    Mickorod Renard: nice, I had to read it slowly though

    Aphrodite Macbain: I want to read it over and over; it is so rich in metaphor and language

    Bruce Mowbray: so rich.

    Aphrodite Macbain: It has somehow the sadness of fall - I'm not sure why

    Ataraxia Azemus: I like the recurring image of lemon trees....

    Aphrodite Macbain: Someone sent me that poem.

    Ataraxia Azemus: Their distance, and simultaneous closeness

    Aphrodite Macbain: I hadn't encountered Eugenio Montale before

    Aphrodite Macbain: _Italian

    Agatha Macbeth: Mama mia

    Mickorod Renard: it is quite an intimate experience i feel, when one shares a poem with someone else

    Aphrodite Macbain: Rain wearies the ground; over the buildings

     winter's tedium thickens.

    Aphrodite Macbain: I can identify with that...

    Aphrodite Macbain: the concept of the ground being wearied by rain

    Bruce Mowbray: more from Aph? or more about her poem?

    Ataraxia Azemus: I agree, Mick :)

    Aphrodite Macbain: You're all wearied by the rain of words

    Agatha Macbeth: Weird?

    Aphrodite Macbain: ha

    Mickorod Renard: :)

    Bruce Mowbray: ;-)

    Agatha Macbeth: Agatha Macbeth nods vehemently

    Aphrodite Macbain: That was fun. Good idea Bruce

    Agatha Macbeth: Yay Brucie

    Aphrodite Macbain: shall we do it again next week? Or does anyone have some other ideas for topics?

    Bruce Mowbray: In previous meetings, we've said that we needed to have consensus on a "limited" topic before the end of the meeting. . .

    Bruce Mowbray: open for suggestions.

    Ataraxia Azemus: I like the poetic threads :)

    Agatha Macbeth: You're so suggestive Bruce ;-)

    Ataraxia Azemus: They're inspiring

    Bruce Mowbray: ;-)

    Ataraxia Azemus: :)

    Mickorod Renard: I am always happy to share intimate moments with friends

    Aphrodite Macbain: It seems like 4 people got a chance to do something like this per session. Would those who didn't have a chance to share a poem like to do one next week?

    Bruce Mowbray listens . . .

    Aphrodite Macbain: Ataraxia, Mick, Aggers?

    Mickorod Renard: :)

    Bruce Mowbray: Alfred?

    Agatha Macbeth: He'll just go Woof

    Aphrodite Macbain: alfred (sorry boxy - didn't see you)

    Ataraxia Azemus: I might not be able to make it, next week....but I'll have a poem ready, just in case :)

    Alfred Kelberry: I'm not much of a poem person, sorry :)

    Ataraxia Azemus: If I can't make it in time, I can pass it along, too

    Pila Mulligan: :)

    Aphrodite Macbain wonders what a poem person is like

    Mickorod Renard: I decided to back out this session cos I often donate dreams and things and didn't want to impose

    Bruce Mowbray: Will someone please state the consensus about the topic for next week, then?

    Agatha Macbeth: Good to listen to Aph...

    Aphrodite Macbain: there isn't one Bruce

    Alfred Kelberry: besides, all poems rhyme in my book :)

    Pila Mulligan: none yet maybe, Bruce

    Aphrodite Macbain: that's OK too alf

    Agatha Macbeth: There was a young lady from ealing

    Calvino Rabeni: who constantly sat on the ceiling

    Aphrodite Macbain: and somebody thought she was stealing

    Agatha Macbeth grins

    Mickorod Renard: I am sure poems are another method of Wok, as long as we keep in the spirit

    Bruce Mowbray ponders cat herding. . .

    Aphrodite Macbain: in the end the laugher was peeling

    Ataraxia Azemus: :) Bruce

    Bruce Mowbray: OK. Do you all want to continue with today's topic?

    Aphrodite Macbain: meeow

    Bruce Mowbray: and continue doing what we did today?

    Mickorod Renard: and we all know laughter is also healing

    Alfred Kelberry: aph, it's those modernists that changed it. form was degraded, meaning supposedly heightened.

    Agatha Macbeth: Mmm

    Calvino Rabeni: It gets easier with practice (meaning poems)

    Aphrodite Macbain: Let's do that and maybe put out another call. I may not be able to join as I'll be in Toronto

    Calvino Rabeni wonders if "humor" is a good topic for Ways of Knowing

    Alfred Kelberry: why spare one for the sake of another?

    Bruce Mowbray: I will post the chat, then, and put out another call.

    Ataraxia Azemus: Definitely!

    Aphrodite Macbain: we can each tell a joke?

    Bruce Mowbray: How about those of us who are here also bringing another poem next week?

    Agatha Macbeth: How about Ways of Joking?

    Aphrodite Macbain: an intelligent, insightful joke

    Pila Mulligan: nice mix: poems and jokes :)

    Calvino Rabeni: Why not?

    Ataraxia Azemus: :)

    Bruce Mowbray: Joking as a way of knowing. . .?

    Agatha Macbeth: Joems and pokes

    Ataraxia Azemus: hehehe

    Bruce Mowbray: and punning. . .

    Agatha Macbeth: Aha

    Aphrodite Macbain: Twas brillig and the slithey toves did jire and jumble in the wabe'

    Bruce Mowbray: Keep in touch through email, folks.

    Agatha Macbeth: That too

    Ataraxia Azemus: Punning in Circles :)

    Bruce Mowbray: Bye for now.

    Agatha Macbeth: and mind the Jabberwock

    Aphrodite Macbain: we can do a round of puns

    Pila Mulligan: thanks Bruce

    Alfred Kelberry: cal, anything is better with practice. but you should not conceal it for the sake of concealment.

    Bruce Mowbray: thanks everyone.

    Ataraxia Azemus: Thanks, Bruce. Take care.

    Aphrodite Macbain: nicker snack

    Mickorod Renard: bye Bruce ty

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