Do You See?
I don’t want to say anything here tonight, despite having had a wonderful day. Speaking is useless. Poetry is useful.
Well, only if you know what it means. Especially, when no one will quote this in august surroundings:
“Insufficiency” by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
When I attain to utter forth in verse
Some inward thought, my soul throbs audibly
Along my pulses, yearning to be free
And something farther, fuller, higher, rehearse
To the individual, true, and the universe,
In consummation of right harmony:
But, like a wind-exposed distorted tree,
We are blown against for ever by the curse
Which breathes through Nature. Oh, the world is weak !
The effluence of each is false to all,
And what we best conceive we fail to speak.
Wait, soul, until thine ashen garments fall,
And then resume thy broken strains, and seek
Fit peroration without let or thrall.
Seconds after I post this, the need for P.S. arises.
Because someone writes back asking: “Are you annoyed with something?”
My answer is: “Read that goddamned poem.”