tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post6663694132581998859..comments2024-01-28T03:56:39.351-08:00Comments on TOM CLARK: John Wieners: My MotherUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-43721662355508008172012-10-11T06:30:20.586-07:002012-10-11T06:30:20.586-07:00Yes, Marcia, there's a marvelous (and somewhat...Yes, Marcia, there's a marvelous (and somewhat ambiguous) sweetness and tenderness in this poem that recalls so much the lovely man who wrote it.TChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05915822857461178942noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-39671093657938275712012-10-11T04:11:35.954-07:002012-10-11T04:11:35.954-07:00Thank you, Tom, for posting this moving poem by Jo...Thank you, Tom, for posting this moving poem by John Wieners. I remember reading this in Joanne's class at NC. Each time I read it, I love it all over again - "talking together between the wire grates of a cage."Marciahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17150292834089323928noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-82821580967678941262012-10-11T00:30:23.098-07:002012-10-11T00:30:23.098-07:00Showing the love we feel and and acknowledging the...Showing the love we feel and and acknowledging the filial debt we know we owe are not easy things. And then the time passes, and it's too late. These are sadnesses.<br /><br />There is a mutual coyness (as well as a common sense of the strain it is to live) unspoken here perhaps, like mother like son.<br /><br />When JW and I were first in touch by transatlantic mail, his postal address, unforgettably, was on Joy Street.TChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05915822857461178942noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-61305043690626115942012-10-10T21:39:22.261-07:002012-10-10T21:39:22.261-07:00"doesn't see me when she gets on"
T..."doesn't see me when she gets on"<br /><br />The feeling is that she does not want to see him. Is she really this dense or is this city place so crowded? She needs to do something or is doing it and the poet is not part of it. He hunts the memory of her? Ambiguous.Susan Kay Andersonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16277139119869470939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-74557616029041238712012-10-10T12:27:47.995-07:002012-10-10T12:27:47.995-07:00There are those terrible moments when I catch sigh...There are those terrible moments when I catch sight of my own mother, her own "worried and strained" look, and think about how little I've done to draw her out of her solitary hurt.<br /><br />Back to the debts that Dorn sets out.Mose23https://www.blogger.com/profile/01100756913131511440noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-53235802065514266172012-10-10T09:50:55.797-07:002012-10-10T09:50:55.797-07:00Tom,
"But I love her in the underground.&qu...Tom, <br /><br />"But I love her in the underground."<br /><br />10.10<br /><br />light coming into sky above black plane<br />of ridge, moon by planet by pine branch<br />in foreground, wave sounding in channel<br /><br /> here is that in mind, think<br /> of examples at random<br /><br /> that cloud, cloud that does<br /> not show itself, some<br /><br />silver line of sun reflected in channel,<br />whiteness of moon in cloudless blue sky<br />STEPHEN RATCLIFFEhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12339481653546188412noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-69373341557475399012012-10-10T09:43:36.460-07:002012-10-10T09:43:36.460-07:00So he haunts his mother, tender without being seen...So he haunts his mother, tender without being seen and sizing her up too. As soon as he makes his presence felt she slips into her part, reading the lines like some half hearted actor.<br /><br />Still, there's such love "...between the wire grates".Mose23https://www.blogger.com/profile/01100756913131511440noreply@blogger.com