After some time on Long Island and in Mexico, I'm back in NYC, and tomorrow's the first day of my class for the new semester, a graduate seminar on Whitman, Dickinson and their twentieth century heirs. Because my books are scattered in three different places, I went to work at Poets House yesterday, using their superb library to find the right range of poems for my syllabus. The first photo was taken yesterday morning, looking out from Battery Park, just outside of Poets House, out toward Liberty and what Hart Crane called "the chained bay waters." The second one is from early this evening, the moon over 7th Avenue, the sky a perfect, glowing winter blue. That jiggly white apparition is the moon.
3 comments:
I think I would love to be part of that class, especially for the Whitman and the Dickinson.
Good luck with your seminar and thank you for the rich pictures, the skyscrapers unmistakable, the blue universal.
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Time
Time once measured
by sun and moon
and the balance of the days,
the slipping of each
from dark to dark,
keeping all in order.
Now measured by fleet
seconds and hours,
the ticking of the clock,
moving ever faster between
full to newest quarter,
need and obligation,
as we slip from sparse
to stark.
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Copyright 2009 - Tall Grass & High Waves, Gary B. Fitzgerald
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