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The Cremation of Sam McGee by Robert Service
This was a favourite of my dad’s, and you can’t go wrong with Johnny Cash reciting it. The Cremation of Sam McGee by Robert Service There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee. Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows. Why he left his home in the South to roam ’round the Pole, God only…
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Navel-Gazing
He was always doing that these days. Everything he saw became a symbol of his own existence, from a rabbit caught in headlights to raindrops racing down a window-pane. Perhaps it was a sign that he was going to become a poet or a philosopher: the kind of person who, when he stood on the sea-shore, didn’t see waves breaking on a beach, but saw the surge of human will or the rhythms of copulation, who didn’t hear the sound of the tide but heard the eroding roar of time and the last moaning sigh of humanity fizzing into nothingness. But perhaps it was a sign, he also thought, that…
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The Continual Condition: Poems
The Continual Condition: Poems by Charles Bukowski Published: 2009 I’ve come across some Bukowski over the years, but this is the first time I actually picked up one of his collections. The sleeve description says that it contains never-before-collected poems, which I think means they were previously published but never in one of his own collections. I usually try not to start with someone’s latest book, particularly if it’s published post-mortem, but this contains work that stretches right back to the beginning of his career and is a great introduction if you haven’t read much by him. There’s something about Bukowski’s writing that can occasionally stop you dead in your…
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How to Make Spells
I don’t think I’d read a word of Atwood before finding her In Love With Raymond Chandler for the last post, but I’ve been browsing through, and thoroughly enjoying, some of her poetry tonight. Spelling My daughter plays on the floor with plastic letters, red, blue & hard yellow, learning how to spell, spelling, how to make spells. I wonder how many women denied themselves daughters, closed themselves in rooms, drew the curtains so they could mainline words. A child is not a poem, a poem is not a child. there is no either/or. However. I return to the story of the woman caught in the war & in labour,…
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Literary Smack Talk
Mark Twain on Jane Austen: I haven’t any right to criticize books, and I don’t do it except when I hate them. I often want to criticize Jane Austen, but her books madden me so that I can’t conceal my frenzy from the reader; and therefore I have to stop every time I begin. Every time I read ‘Pride and Prejudice,’ I want to dig her up and hit her over the skull with her own shin-bone. [via Flavorwire – The 30 Harshest Author-on-Author Insults In History] Oh, those drama queens. To counter-balance the negative, Margaret Atwood on Raymond Chandler: An affair with Raymond Chandler, what a joy! Not because…