Quote:
Originally Posted by Clive Watkins
Wallace Stevens : The Woman in Sunshine
It is only that this warmth and movement are like
The warmth and movement of a woman.
It is not that there is any image in the air
Nor the beginning nor end of a form:
It is empty. But a woman in threadless gold
Burns us with brushings of her dress
And a dissociated abundance of being,
More definite for what she is—
Because she is disembodied,
Bearing the odors of the summer fields,
Confessing the taciturn and yet indifferent,
Invisibly clear, the only love.
(1948: from The Auroras of Autumn)
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Clive,
It's a beautiful poem. This thread is reminding me of two thoughts: 1) I need to pick up some Stevens and get reading, and 2) the problem with death is that it cuts off all that reading.
Also, this poem reminds me of Frost's "The Silken Tent."
Certainly, the most important line in this poem is "Because she is disembodied." I'm sure there are a lot of folks out there who might see this line as sexist or even misogynistic in its delivery. And there are those that might see it as nihilistic (I think Mr. Ferris made this point). I like to think there is more animism in Stevens to balance any oblivion out there. But I fear I am projecting my own psychology on him in saying that. Nonetheless, there's an expansiveness in his poems that does not feel like an abyss but an infinite and eternal falling into something greater.
To the bookshelf! Charge!
Cheers,
Greg
PS One of my favorite Stevens' poems is "Peter Quince at the Clavier."
Just a taste:
Beauty is momentary in the mind—
The fitful tracing of a portal;
But in the flesh it is immortal.
Threaded Mode
