I feel abashed by this poem, as it so beautifully made, seems effortless, and is also so wise and modest. I especially admire how it begins with "I’m learning" ( Not "I’ve learned") and then shows you that process by the tentativeness of the rhythm, the way it gives you the impression of exploration going on as the poem goes forward. There’s also a lovely paradox in it, because the poem is a closed form about opening up, and it’s a (formally) pure poem about impurity. I guess what makes it so moving is the way the poem’s movement seems to give us the speaker’s sensibility, and then that it is such a sympathetic and modest sensibility. I also like that it’s about language: poets have to love language if they’re to be any good as poets, and though it can seem like talking incestuous shop sometimes (to mix metaphors thoroughly), if badly handled, I like it when good poets give in occasionally and talk about something so close to the center of what they do. I think I’m waffling a bit, but as I say I feel abashed.
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Hybrid Mode
