A WRITER'S WIT |
MY BOOK WORLD
A woman who taught Spanish at the high school where I once worked as an English teacher recommended that I read Lorca’s work, that we had “a lot in common.” She may have been referring to the fact that I, too, am gay. Perhaps she meant more.
I probably appreciated most of all the poems written when Lorca lived in New York City, not only because it is material with which I am more familiar but because he does seem to touch a nerve concerning our shared sexuality. In “Ode to Walt Whitman,” “the boys were singing showing, their waists” (131), as if to tempt me into this kingdom already tempting me with Whitman himself. Lorca invokes Whitman with descriptors such as “aged,” Whitman, “old man” Whitman and other variations of the grand poet’s name, as if he might rise from the very grave he has occupied, by that time, at least forty years. Almost as if Lorca wishes to crawl into the crypt with his hero.
Not for one moment, beautiful aged Walt Whitman,
have I failed to see your beard full of butterflies,
nor your shoulders of corduroy worn out by the moon,
nor your thighs of virginal Apollo,
nor your voice like a pillar of ashes:
ancient and beautiful as the mist,
you moaned like a bird
with the sex transfixed by a needle,
enemy of the satyr,
enemy of the vine,
and lover of bodies under the rough cloth (133)
I would be tempted to copy out the entire poem for readers, but it is best you secure your own version of the book, underline and savor the passages you wish to remember.
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MON 9/15: WHAT I'M THINKING ... WHAT HAPPENED TO LABOR DAY?
TUES 9/16: A Writer's Wit | Lord Bolingbroke
WEDS 9/17: A Writer's Wit | Cheryl Strayed
THURS 9/18: A Writer's Wit | Francis Parker Yockey
FRI 9/19: A Writer's Wit | William Golding
My Book World | Shapiro, Laurie Gwen. The Aviator and the Showman: Amelia Earhart, George Putnam, and the Marriage That Made an American Icon

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