Smidgens
The voiceless have built a city within this city, structures embedded within the grid, pulled together by patchwork—cloth, tent, sawdust floor and plastic sheet. You’re there, measuring your life in coffee spoons, on that same street, right next to them. You see them working on bicycles, bus passes, rides. You see them through half deserted streets, a forager still intact in their genes. They hunker down with their wildness, lingering in pools that stand in drains. They follow you like a tedious argument. And what do you do? You come and go talking of Michelangelo, with the evening spread out against the sky. No worries, there will be time. You’ve still time to prepare a face for those you meet. You’re perfectly fine with disturbing the universe and asking “Do I dare?” You’ve time to settle your head on a pillow and say “That’s not what I meant at all.” Not a problem. It’s perfectly OK to be misunderstood. Nothing will come of it, except some literary theory.
But wait…You think you hear them.
Bite it off with a smile.
I have to ok comments on my end. It helps with trolling. The liking aspect, I’m not quite sure. I’ll look into it. Thanks so much Rae!! Your kind words warm my heart!
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Something is blocking me from “liking” and commenting on your T.S. Eliot post. (It may be that I am so late getting to it. I just want to thank you for such a lovely piece on behalf of all lit majors everywhere. We celebrate your skill and creativity!
Rae Longest ________________________________
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This is simply wonderful. All of us Lit majors say, Thank YOU, and celebrate your fine skill and talent!
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Great writing.
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How can we dare enter anyone’s world we don’t truly desire to get to know first? Great piece!
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Nice interpretive fantasia. Into the Wasteland.
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You’ve outdone yourself here. This is both literate and humane. Prufrock couldn’t have done the latter.
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“You” bump into M.H. Abrams.
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What happens when one gets to the corner of Eliot and Bloom? Leave the streets to David Foster Wallace?
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Eliot is one of my favorites. Wonderful imagining him in conversation with one of today’s streets.
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Thought provoking piece. @new criticism; A difficult line to write the impersonal yet inbed the personal… culture works much the same I think, in order to be heard one must ensure the voice is impersonal yet it does seem that our current culture (very generally speaking) is aching for understanding, for empathy something to relate personally to. Giving a little of the self perhaps engages those who would otherwise remain silent behind a keyboard/screen? And yet is that very much different to the era (despite different media format) where new criticism developed?
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Love your work as always, Elan!!
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Fantabulous storytelling! 😎🥀🥀🥀😎
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Oh this is terrific. Thought provoking and excellent writing. Thank you.
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Thanks for the tip. Appreciated.
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Thanks Colette. Part of this piece is literature based, the study of Lit, which Eliot was an important figure not as just a poet. You might want to look up the term “New Criticism” and this poem may take on some other meanings. Close Readings seem to be the backbone of studying literature.
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A fascinating distractional moment, glad to see your blog in my email notifications. Hope all’s good with you there. Oddly enough I was just taking a moment looking into Eliot no less. Back to it then. Cheers.
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Nice story man, I always wonder what I’ll say to those who are less fortunate than me. Usually I just say nothing, but whenever I take the bus I definitely get forced into conversation haha
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A heavy dose of philosophy or is it bitter medicine we all need for the start of yet another week?
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