Thursday, March 21, 2013


How did it get to be Thursday and I lost track of the week, of days?

On Tuesday I heard the poet Stanley Plumly give a lecture on John Keats, a talk which emphasized the human in Keats, the fragile drowning-lungs which put an end to his days, despite his 5'1/2" size which, incidentally, was broad and built like a boxer.  Who dies at 25? Keats did. In Rome, in an apartment on the Spanish Steps, in a room no larger than a closet.


I am undone by the swells and tempests of these days, everything sifting into a kind of place. That exquisite, necessary sorrow that has engendered all that I name to be beautiful.


  1. I didn't know that about Keats. Good thing he was an early producer!

    Your last sentences here are profound. In meditation class we were just talking about holding opposites in each hand, and learning to exist peacefully with both.

  2. Tara:
    (and yes, all at once)

  3. I wonder if you saw the Jane Campion movie about Keats? I loved it -- so moody and romantic and evocative of that time.

  4. Elizabeth, I love that movie! Plumley spoke of his disappointment that Jane
    Campion cast Keats as the stereotypical wan, frail Romantic poet when, in fact, prior to his illness, he was strong, stocky and hale.

    Splendid film, though. The sewing images were particularly marvelous, as was the soundtrack. Typical lush Jane Campion!

  5. Keats = Tragedy, romance, pain, and poetry. And I'm certain that at the same time, painters were ending their days starving in Parisian garrets.

  6. 'That exquisite necessary sorrow that has engendered all that I name to be beautiful.'

    _/\_, T.

    re; holding the opposites in both hands --- it occurs to me that 'just' the holding of them creates a bridge between the two, harmony out of dissonance. (Taradharma and T, you just affirmed and confirmed something for me on the other side of the world - thank you both.).