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Poetry Friday -- Denise Levertov
head shot
It is an oddity of the writer that we live immersed in a world of words and yet sometimes can think of not a thing to say...

or the thing we do think of is not quite right...

or we don't have the time to do justice to all that needs saying.

Because really, is there ever enough time to do it all justice or get it quite right?

-- Denise Levertov

All others talked as if
talk were a dance.
Clodhopper I, with clumsy feet
would break the gliding ring.
Early I learned to
hunch myself
close by the door:
then when the talk began
I’d wipe my
mouth and wend
unnoticed back to the barn
to be with the warm beasts,
dumb among body sounds
of the simple ones. 

(Read the rest here)

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I love the idea of speech as a dance... And the acknowledgment that we're all clodhoppers sometimes.


And dontcha love that word clodhopper?

I collect Caedmons! And I appreciate this poem. If my daughter had been a son, she would have been named after this cowherd poet. If you're interested, there's a good retelling of the Caedmon story in the book Best Loved Stories Told at the National Storytelling Festival. I'd love to hear it live someday.

I feel a little struck dumb myself, after reading one of Levertov's poems. They are just so...brilliant.

I know.
Beautiful, cloudscome.
Brilliant, Sara.
Beautiful and brilliant...

I really hardly ever do this, but for some reason today I was compelled to tag you for a meme. Fee free to ignore, of course.

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