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Georg Trakl

Posted 12-14-2010 at 04:40 AM by Steve Bucknell
Reading work by Georg Trakl, published in the Austrian literary magazine Der Brenner, Wittgenstein said: “I do not understand his poetry, but its tone delights me. It is the tone of a man of real genius.” Wittgenstein reached out indirectly to Trakl in the summer of 1914, making a donation of 100,000 crowns to needy Austrian artists and asked Ficker, the editor of Der Brenner, to oversee its distribution. Ficker requested that 20,000 of it be sent to Trakl. When Trakl went to withdraw the first...
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Edith Sitwell

Posted 12-13-2010 at 03:00 AM by Steve Bucknell
Updated 02-01-2011 at 02:00 PM by Steve Bucknell
Gertrude Stein noted, on meeting Edith Sitwell, that she possessed a most distinguished nose and she walked as if advancing and withdrawing at the same time. Her poems leave a similar impression:


When Cold December


When cold December
Froze to grisamber
The jangling bells on the sweet rose-trees--
Then fading slow
And furred is the snow
As the almond's sweet husk--
And smelling like musk.
The snow...
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Henry D.Thoreau

Posted 12-12-2010 at 03:18 AM by Steve Bucknell
The Pond in Winter.


Then to my morning work. First I take an axe and pail and go in search of water, if that be not a dream. After a cold and snowy night it needed a divining-rod to find it. Every winter the liquid and trembling surface of the pond, which was so sensitive to every breath, and reflected every light and shadow, becomes solid to the depth of a foot or a foot and a half, so it will support the heaviest teams, and perchance the snow covers it to an equal depth,...
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Gilbert White

Posted 12-11-2010 at 03:28 AM by Steve Bucknell
Updated 12-11-2010 at 03:33 AM by Steve Bucknell
After two days and nights of thaw the green fields emerge into the light. A mild Westerly wind knocks and shakes everything free of snow.

Gilbert White, (born 1720), author of The Natural History and Antiquities of Selbourne kept his journal from 1768 to 1793 when he died. His journals record details of the passing seasons. Without plan or pretension they become poetry.


1779.

Nov. 23. An eclipse of the moon, total but not central.
...
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Kirke White

Posted 12-10-2010 at 05:41 AM by Steve Bucknell
Updated 01-15-2011 at 04:39 PM by Steve Bucknell
I think Henry Kirke White only ever really wrote one poem. That poem ranged restlessly across the landscape of his limited experience always seeking a scene of repose “far from the unquietness of life.” Moments in his poetry find a peace and serenity he never had in life. Reading him feels like keeping him company at this great distance in time, standing with him, looking up at “Orion in his arctic tower.”

His name fades into literary history, yet an attentive reader can still see...
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