HOLD ON TIGHT

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. ~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot Sunday, November 25, 2007 trauma and the heart im studying trauma theory now, freud, felman, caruth, remembering certain conversations, certain scenes. i think, we need to repeat certain nightmares until we have mastered them, reordered them (like verses in poetry), interpreted them. this is why poetry is important. poetry is the point of departure and the point where we emerge, newly arrived. i don't write often, because i really want to be constantly surprised by myself, by my ability to pull away from myself in poetry. this is why theory and postmodernism, is not about the destruction, but about, reconstruction. it is about, fundamentally, the heart. there can be no forgiveness if one cannot truly master the terrible event. how can you ask for forgiveness, when you dont even know what it is you want to be forgiven for? you can you give forgiveness when you don't know what you want forgiven? i think prayer, like poetry, is about the struggle for mastery over the fact. posted by dawn # 4:09 PM Comments: Post a Comment << Home		[publishing] Publishers Weekly . Dystel & Goderich . New York Center for Independent Publishing . Association of American University Presses . Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators [people] clarisse . nurul . aunty zarina (ummi's bakery) . jeremy . pak . cyril . softblow . karen & kenny (booksactually) . eric . joel . [other loves] digitaljournalist . ballet dictionary . poetshouse . urbanwordnyc [me] dawn, singapore, new york city, ithaca. [yesterday] breathe pretty the memory of a goldfish letter to yantai all of a sudden happiness differences Ultrasound in my own time Second winter [archives] January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT

And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot

Sunday, November 25, 2007

trauma and the heart

im studying trauma theory now, freud, felman, caruth, remembering certain conversations, certain scenes. i think, we need to repeat certain nightmares until we have mastered them, reordered them (like verses in poetry), interpreted them. this is why poetry is important. poetry is the point of departure and the point where we emerge, newly arrived. i don't write often, because i really want to be constantly surprised by myself, by my ability to pull away from myself in poetry. this is why theory and postmodernism, is not about the destruction, but about, reconstruction. it is about, fundamentally, the heart.

there can be no forgiveness if one cannot truly master the terrible event. how can you ask for forgiveness, when you dont even know what it is you want to be forgiven for? you can you give forgiveness when you don't know what you want forgiven? i think prayer, like poetry, is about the struggle for mastery over the fact.

posted by dawn # 4:09 PM

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