a fool in the forest


  • A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' the
    A motley fool; a miserable world!
    As I do live by food, I met a fool
    Who laid him down and bask'd him
        in the sun,
    And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good
    In good set terms and yet a motley

    As You Like It,
    Act II, Scene 7

    L'homme y passe à travers des
        forêts de symboles
    Qui l'observent avec des regards

    Les Fleurs du Mal,

    [T]here is almost no subject-matter, and what little one can disentangle is foolish....
    One would call the style verbose, except that by definition verbosity is the use of words in excess of the occasion, and there seems to be no occasion.

    Yvor Winters,
    Forms of Discovery, Ch. 7

    Best Personal Blog
    by a Legally-Oriented
    Male Blogger

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    « Dies Natalis Invicti Solis | Main | And Koala Good Night »

    December 23, 2007


    Tim Walters

    I don't know how to search Disch's blog for a link, so I hope he doesn't mind if I simply pass on to you my favorite poem to appear there...


    Dolls Left Alone

    When we're away from them, they are bereft
    as lap dogs unable to understand what has gone
    wrong. When they grasp an idea, it is
    with such gratitude, and they try to hold on,
    but then it gets lost in the general welter
    of weather and television. They're all right
    as long as something is happening
    but when their lives become a void,
    when they simply are not in our thoughts,
    they become depressed, unmoored.
    They wear the same clothes for days
    at a time. They lose their knack
    for polite conversation. When they fall over,
    they may not get up for a week.
    Music does not make them stir.
    In this, as in so much else, they are like us,
    which is not to be wondered at,
    for we created them in our image.
    Some of them even know how to cry.
    But they're not real tears, and neither are these.

    --Tom Disch

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