Sound is something I’m very conscious of. And maybe that’s
part of the Northwest; there is a mossy, deadened sound here. So you listen
more carefully—you’re an owl. You don’t have to put on earmuffs to keep from
damaging your hearing. It’s nice and quiet, so you listen. But in a way that’s
a metaphor too. It is an alertness of sense in a world where senses are never
enough—any of the senses. I thought maybe you were going to say smell. I feel
I’m really a good smeller, and I value that, although on the other hand, I look
at a bloodhound and realize I’ve got a ways to go. So, whatever the senses in
my poems, I am consciously aware of the limits of human beings and of the
mistake we make if we assume what we are receiving is everything that’s there.
I feel that we need to hear more, see more, smell more, feel more.
I think you create a good poem by revising your life . . . by living the kind of life that enables good poems to come about.
I think you create a good poem by revising your life . . . by living the kind of life that enables good poems to come about.
William Stafford
CONNECT
Thank You, Jessica.
No comments:
Post a Comment