I like these.
By Michael Drayton (1563-1631).
By Robert Browning (1812-1889). I was actually only given a cutting of this one at first, but I like the whole thing (even if I don't understand it).
By Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979). Trivia! Some of her unpublished poems were recently collected and published by Alice Quinn (look!). It's caused something of an uproar--if a poet had the chance to publish some of her work, and didn't, should people root through her things after she's dead and shove them in the public's face? The Denver Post had a nifty article about the problem. And here's something from The Atlantic Monthly (sigh) published in January.
1 comment:
Firstly, I was not aware that 'brouhaha' was a word. This I learned from one of these articles concerning Bishop's posthumous publication, her poetry,fragmented notes, and the concurrent mapmaking.
Emily, this has kept me reading (and buried in my own notebook) for the last couple hours! I find what little I've learned about Bishop's scrutinizinly perfectionistic (which, I'm aware, is a rather redundant phrase) tendencies quite arresting.
I think what puts the final 'e' (a nod to your post's title) on this intropection of the writing process, although much more insight is now scribbled--neatly--across the faint blue lines of my notebook, is a statement, a summation really, of Quinn's:
"Drafts bring you into the labratory..."
Thank you for prompting me to think.
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