From: LouisFors <LouisFors@aol.com>
Message-ID: <7d083fb6.355cec07@aol.com>
Date: Fri, 15 May 1998 21:29:42 EDT
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Subject: Re: Poem 443
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Amit wrote, adding to Laurie's query about # 443

>  Hi 
>  
>      I am also interested in knowing what everyone thinks about this poem. 
>  I myself haven't understood it completely. I really have very little
>  knowledge about ED'd poems being an engineering major and not an arts
>  student.(so now you know why I am dumb). I started reading her poems very
>  recently, the ones I have read are, I feel, truly beyond compare. 
>  
>  She seems to be describing a state of despair where the only reward of
>  life's duties is hanging on to it. Blossoms can be changed not men and
>  women, after their existence ends ..in what sense? What is "the bomb" she
>  refers to and why would it startle science ?
>  
>  
>   - Amit
Amit and Laurie:

I'm sure others will jump in and help with this one.  It takes multiple
perspectives, as many of ED's poems do.  I think from lines 1 thr 7 she makes
the case for the tiny tasks that we all do.  Beginning in the middle of line 8
she "weigh[s]/The time 'twill be till six o'clock/I have so much to do --.
And, in lines 11 and 12 she notes that existence for her stopped "some way
back."  But, in line 13 she notes that we cannot be complete man or woman when
the errands are done--there's more, and that deals with flesh--life, feelings,
love, thought.  Skipping to line 19 she notes"To simulate -- stinging work --
"(I suspect that means  that her profession, poetry, which might be considered
simulation, is difficult)  And from 20 to 23 she describes the terrain she
must cover as a poet of her times -- science --, much of which is done for the
sake of scientists, not for people like her.  At 25 she notes that she could
startle them, or, in line 26, that she could tremble.  But I've got a bomb in
my bosom, says ED, and I hold it calmly, so I'm not afraid.  (I think bomb is
simply something very powerful--her will, her mission.)  From line 30 on she
returns to the theme of doing life's little labors, and then gaining life's
*reward* (her work, her poetry) by working intensely and scrupulously, to
keeps her senses together.

Sorry for carrying on so long.  It's as much for me as for others. It's not an
easy poem either to analyze or to describe.  I hope emwebbers will check in
with their readings.

Louis Forsdale

   #443
   
1   I tie my Hat -- I crease my Shawl --
2   Life's little duties do -- precisely --
3   As the very least
4   Were infinite -- to me --
   
5  I put new Blossoms in the Glass --
6   And throw the old -- away --
7   I push a petal from my Gown
8   That anchored there -- I weigh
9   The time "twill be till six o'clock
10  I have so much to do --
11   And yet -- Existence -- some way back --
12   Stopped -- struck -- my ticking -- through --
13   We cannot put ourself away
14   As a complete Man
15   Or Woman -- When the Errand's done
16   We came to Flesh -- upon ---
17   There may be  -- Miles on Miles of Nought --
18   Of Action -- sicker far --
19   To simulate -- is stinging work --
20   To cover what we are
21   From Science and from Surgery --
22  Too Telescopic Eyes
23   To bear on us unshaded --
24   For their -- sake -- not for ours
25  "Twould start them --
26   We --  could  tremble --
27   But since we got a Bomb --
28   And held it in our Bosom --
29   Nay -- Hold it -- it is calm --
  
30  Therefore -- we do life's labor --
31   Though life's Reward -- be done --
32   With scrupulous exactness --
33   To hold our Senses -- on --