The Last of My Three Possibles

I read through the entirety of the Franklin edition, and I found that there was a subject that didn't get tons of attention like "Heaven," but enough to be interesting. The subject of the abyss. Its a mysterious one, but I like mysteriousness. Best? Not as good? Tell me!

One more thing

Also, wizards. Emily mentions the word wizard two times, to my best memory. I think it would be rad to see how many time this word comes up. It doesn't have to be wizard, it could be sorcerer, whatever. I think this would be an interesting paper, perhaps even more so than the paper about angels. Though there's probably a lot less to go on with wizards. Comment and tell me what you think!

I come to this post bearing actual ideas. I think that the next essay I write will be about something very prevalent in the works of Emily Dickinson, the supernatural. This is merely an initial idea, so I guess its a bit misleading to use the word "ideas." The supernatural subject I think is most interesting is her treatment of angels. They are sometimes good, sometimes ambivalent, and most interestingly, sometimes evil. However, since she treats science a specific way, no matter how the angels behave will be interesting, and will offer an in depth perspective towards the author.

Creative project

I guess its a little too late to ask this, but I have a question about my creative project for my followers. Does a creative project based on frequent words used by Emily Dickinson, parodying the words and deprecating them with definitions, sound too harsh? I've already written this, but give me your feedback on this idea.

An attempt at Dickinson

Here is a poem I wrote. Its a poem based off of Dickinson's door imagery, an image that appealed to me wherever she wrote it. Tell me what you think!

The Door stood staring
so enter, if you will
the portal next to my cold hand
or don't, it doesn't matter

I know you will be back
sometime in your life

When the golden day
has ended and gone away
when the purplish tinge
has faded to obsidian
when your hands are pale ghosts
horrifyingly swirling, shrieking
now you'll seek that very aperture

Cool, calming, roughly ornate
and you will magnetize yourself

Steel unto the knob
and open the thing
with a rictus of terror.
when all you see past that door
is an upturned basket
shining in ink

Paper topics

From now on, I'll use some posts to talk about the paper I'm eventually going to write. I'm thinking about something overarching in Emily's work, like her perception of death and life. There's not much content here, but as I go on, feel free to comment.

Poem of the Day for 10/19/09

Some of you may notice that this post nearly coincides my last post, separated by only a few minutes. I am on such a writing binge now that I couldn't bear not to write about fascicle 20. Since my last post was on the fascicle's final poem, I decided to give the POTD to the fascicle's first poem.

I took one Draught of Life -
I'll tell you what I paid -
Precisely an existence -
The market price, they said.

They weighed me, Dust by Dust -
They balanced Film with Film,
They handed me my Being's worth -
A single Dram of Heaven!

Here we see, yet again, a Death poem. In fact, the entire action of the poem takes place after Emily has died, and is being judged. Though this is not your daddy's "pearly gates" poem, but a bizarre comparison of Emily's soul and a butcher's marketplace, or something. They, whoever that is, weigh her, balance the weight, and stick her with a "market price." This gives us a very atypical portrayal of judgement, as well as a disturbing one. She basically pays for her life, after death, with existence. All they give her back, in exchange for her "Being," is a little tiny bit of Heaven, expressed through the old-timey word "Dram." Perhaps this is Emily expressing anger, or outrage at what she finds existence to be.

A look into Fascicle 20

When trying to better understand the fascicles of Emily Dickinson, it is difficult to know where to begin. Many of the poems bear a similar theme, as they were all written and put in a particular order by Emily herself. In this post, I'll attempt to do just that, starting off logically with the last poem in the work, number 413.

Heaven is so far of the Mind
That were the Mind dissolved -
The Site - of it - by Architect
Could not again be proved -

'Tis Vast - as our Capacity -
As fair - as our idea -
To Him of adequate desire
No further 'tis, than Here

I want to mainly focus on the notion of "Heaven" in this poem. As any avid reader of Dickinson knows, "Heaven" is not what it seems. It is a place that should be paradise, but is frequently spurned in favor of Earth, as if to say "live in the moment." Previously in the fascicle, and particularly in "I reason Earth is Short -," we learn that Heaven is the ultimate unknown unknowable. Barring near death light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel scenarios, no one can actually know what will happen in the afterlife. We are left with evidence from holy texts and the like to base our theories of the afterlife, but, as Dickinson says, "what of that?" As the "what of that" is repeated in "I reason," so is poem 413. She reminds the reader of this fearful finality, and tells them that one "of adequate desire" would only desire to live in the here and now. Basically, I believe the majority of the other poems in this fascicle hinge on this idea of living days as they come, and not attempting to envisage the later.

Poem of the day: a short one

White as an Indian Pipe
Red as a Cardinal Flower
Fabulous as a Moon at Noon
Febuary Hour

I don't know which is weirder, the fact that this poem doesn't really sound like Emily, or the fact that February is misspelled. Hmm... I honestly can't say if thats intentional or not. Maybe she meant for it to be left in? But in that case, what exactly does it signify? As for the poem itself, it seems atypical of Emily's normal poetry, except tweaked slightly. For instance, the whole Moon at Noon line doesn't make much sense, unless you're talking about the pale image that we sometimes see during the day. Which is definitely not fabulous. It's hard to pinpoint exactly what this poem is trying to say. All we know is that whatever it is, it is white, red, and fabulous. A Log Cabin Republicans rally? But seriously I have no idea. Post a comment if you know! Thats all for tonight -

The Layout?

I'm new at this blog thing (as some of you may have noticed), so I'm trying to make my blog more personalized. Does anyone out there have suggestions? I'd love to hear them. Comment please and thank you!

The Poem of the Day for 10/13/09

I'm going to try to do something with this blog that I haven't tried before. Every day, I will post a poem that I have deemed poem of the day. Today's is thus:

Like Mighty Foot Lights - burned the Red
At Bases of the Trees -
The far Theatricals of Day
Exhibiting - to These -

'Twas Universe - that did applaud -
While Chiefest - of the Crowd -
Enabled by his Royal Dress -
Myself distinguished God

I chose this one mainly because I thought it would be easy to explicate. I thought, Hey, it's only two stanzas, eight lines, how hard can it be? I found myself reading it again and again, and actually losing whatever thread of understanding I had at first. If we're taking this poem as a description of a sunset, then yeah, easy. However, in that last line, "Myself," meaning the poetess, describing herself as God, makes me understand the poem much less. Then, I thought, maybe she is only describing how she has the sunset reflecting on her. Still, this doesn't describe her godly aspirations. If anyone out there in blogland can help, please comment!

Hello all. I'd like to take this time and first post to explain a little how this blog is going to go. This blog is primarily about the works of the poetess, Emily Dickinson. The blog will focus primarily on her works, her words, and her life. That's basically it. See you next time, when I'll post a real post.