Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Oct 20

"here is little Effie's head, whose brains are made of gingerbread..."
- e e cumings

Friends have sent poetry books and music. I am grateful, but wonder if it's a hint to stop trying to be a novelist and write poetry instead.

I once rewrote a verse from the great Arthur Rimbaud's Le Bateau Ivre and sent it in a letter to a friend.
I've dreamed green nights of dazzling snows,
Slow kisses on the eyelids of the sea.
And sometimes I have seen
What men have thought they saw.

It remains in my mind as an improvement from the original.
Is it Rambo or Rimbaud?
We had our first hard frost. The leaves are sure to follow. And with them Red October into green nights of dazzling snows. It's travel day, again to the West where summer lingers.

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