Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Urban to Comfort Them

[This one I have omitted the name of a character--I fear too easy if I left the name. Everything else is the same, but the name is now X. And .... indicates where I skipped some lines. Happy Tuesday!]



Urbane, to comfort them, the quaker librarian purred:
--And we have, have we not, those priceless pages of Wilhelm Meister? A great poet on a great brother poet. A hesitating soul taking arms against a sea of troubles, torn by conflicting doubts, as one sees in real life....

--Upon my word, it makes my blood boil to hear anyone compare Aristotle with Plato.
--Which of the two, X asked, would have banished me from his commonwealth?
Unsheathe your dagger definitions. Horseness is the whatness of allhorse. Streams of tendency and eons they worship. God: noise in the street: very peripatetic. Space: what you damn well have to see. Through spaces smaller than the red globules of man's blood they creepycrawl after Blake's buttocks into eternity of which this vegetable world is but a shadow. Hold to the now, the here, through which all future plunges to the past.

4 comments:

  1. Tom Stoppard? Maybe there are two who could have such fun making fun of Shakespeare. When do you reveal the answers?

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  2. D. H. Lawrence? J. Joyce? A. Crowley?

    I don't know. But(t) "Blakes buttocks" rings a now distant bell.

    Hell n Death: All the bells are now distant

    And anyone mocking Shakespeare is, to paraphrase F. Holderlin, a novice stroking the strings of a master.

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  3. Answers will be revealed next week. I will reveal Tuesday's author on Tuesday next week.

    But I have to say you guys are doing pretty well so far...will have to make things tougher :)

    ReplyDelete