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102

Poetry Lessons from the Advanced in Age

Writers confront the end

by Michael Hofmann

1
terms
1
notes

Hofmann, M. (2020). Poetry Lessons from the Advanced in Age. The Baffler, 53, pp. 102-107

(noun) a high point of land or rock projecting into a body of water / (noun) a prominent mass of land overlooking or projecting into a lowland / (noun) a bodily prominence

105

what it must be like to stand on this promontory of years, looking out. Promontory or proscenium, maybe: it is a subset of course of the dramatic monologue

—p.105 by Michael Hofmann
notable
3 years, 1 month ago

what it must be like to stand on this promontory of years, looking out. Promontory or proscenium, maybe: it is a subset of course of the dramatic monologue

—p.105 by Michael Hofmann
notable
3 years, 1 month ago
106

[...] something Rilke says about poetry in his novel The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge (1910). Poems are not, he explains, “feelings—those one has early enough—they are experiences.” And from experience, he slips into memories, and launches into a page-long litany of them, and then he says (translator: Burton Pike):

But it is still not enough to have memories. One must be able to forget them. . . . For it is not the memories themselves. Only when they become blood in us, glance and gesture, nameless and no longer to be distinguished from ourselves, only then can it happen that in a very rare hour the first word of a line arises in their midst and strides out of them.

—p.106 by Michael Hofmann 3 years, 1 month ago

[...] something Rilke says about poetry in his novel The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge (1910). Poems are not, he explains, “feelings—those one has early enough—they are experiences.” And from experience, he slips into memories, and launches into a page-long litany of them, and then he says (translator: Burton Pike):

But it is still not enough to have memories. One must be able to forget them. . . . For it is not the memories themselves. Only when they become blood in us, glance and gesture, nameless and no longer to be distinguished from ourselves, only then can it happen that in a very rare hour the first word of a line arises in their midst and strides out of them.

—p.106 by Michael Hofmann 3 years, 1 month ago