new old kid on the blog,
with an occasional
old or new poem written off
the old writer's block
yes in:deedIt is what wewhat we rememberwhat we imaginethattends to become realas she, long ago, said:"the worst reply is silence.'the mind-stuff of memories/dreamsis what we write and draw about ?
This is a poem the great goddess will never have to tie a string around her finger to keep from forgetting.She is so powerful that her spell continually causes mortals all sorts of subtle annoyance.When Nabokov wrote his great memoir of his early life, he submitted it to his English publisher as Speak, Mnemosyne. The publisher rejected this title as too arcane. He changed the title then to Speak, Memory.But of course she will neither forget nor forgive this linguistic betrayal. Forgiving and forgetting are not among her powers.
The trouble with the string about the finger - one day you wonder what that threads doing there on your pinkie cutting off the circulation.But i forgot to ask herHow long ago that was.A wonderfully forlorn distance here.
Thanks for stopping by, guys. Suffice to say this subject i.e., mnemosyne—which I touch on briefly here—has been covered extensively by poets/writers everywhere but I have to admita Hellenistic bias—and debt—towards Cavafy and Seferis, both masters at presenting the erosion of it.