Shiver

Weather, Or Not

rejectomorph

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Shiver	[Nov. 29th, 2009\|11:59 pm] rejectomorph
I know I've long since jumped the shark with this whole weather obsession, but damn, the air's getting almost wintry here! I don't like wintry in November. I want autumn back! The white moon looked nice rising above the nearly-bare trees tonight, though, and the red line of sunset at least looked warm even though the dusk was chilly. In honor of vanished summer (and to remind me of how eager I was to leave it behind) here's an old favorite poem. Sunday Verse The Red Month by Yvor Winters The passions of the race are now embedded in the air more fearful in their pride of silence moving rapidly afar as changes of the hour or as a month across the grass now incest burns the very shade hate rains about me in the red light through the trees July! a bird drops to the sidewalk like a stone.
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Comments:

From:

daisydumont
2009-11-30 12:23 pm (UTC)

i'm blinking at the line mentioning incest, but i admire the "month across the grass." the plight of the bird is very sad.

shark-jumping has not been apparent to me. sometimes i feel like i've done some shark-jumping in one way or another, though. it's a transient mood, or i'd just shut up completely. *g*

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From:

flying_blind
2009-12-01 10:29 am (UTC)

I'm pretty sure I felt shark teeth on my ass while I was writing about the weather some time back.

I'm not sure what Winters was getting at with the incest burning the shade. His early stuff (this piece dates from the 1920s, I think) was very dense and rich with symbolism. He later condemned his early style as "the deliberate courting of madness," but I've always found his maddeningly obscure early poems fascinating.

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