J puts his love for womenHe ends the poem:
his love for love, his devotion, his pain, his causing-of-pain, right out there.
So recklessly bold—foolish?—In the rest of this the section, Snyder continues that question in verse. But these are not prurient reflections. Maybe just some passing photographs. Such confessions raise more questions than give us insights into this poet’s life. I find this in “Waiting for a Ride” a fine example of that:
to write so much about your lovers
when you’re a long-time married man. Then I think,
what do I know?
About what to say
or not to say, what to tell, or not, to whom,
or when,
still.
My former wife has become a unique poet;
most of my work
such as it is is done.
(*Note: I'm having trouble putting the proper indentation in Snyder's lines)
1 comment:
Have you read Laughlin? I like him a lot. Better than Snyder, in fact, who is often too didactic for my taste. Laughlin almost succeeds in channelling Catullus - or sometimes Horace. (Not that I can read either of them in the original.)
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