Posted by: Bruce Proctor | August 24, 2014

Small Gray Book, pages 79 and 78

page 79 and backwards

a rude prank on a poor boob

zero in on life’s moments and find in them a fragile poetry.

a long haul and a lot to follow

the open country unfolding before them like a song.

a storm with a dock cargo of snakes, a wild boar, panthers, and an elephant.

vanities, follies, and eccentricities

precise in its reasoning, close in its definitions, subtle in its metaphors, and rich in spiritual meanings.

nothing but daylight stars

haiku is the one form of poetry that makes nature a spiritual path.

another shopping spree and a round of parties

page 78

obsessed with literary style and stringent prose

the food is good, the atmosphere elegant, and the company scintillating.

a Boston Brahmin from a Pilgrim family

playing second fiddle to a typewriter

its jewel-like color and breathless plunges from light to dark enchanted

pieces of our hopes, dreams, and small losses lie strewn about seeking rebirth in something greater and more valuable in the larger vision of who we are.

one pauses often, not caught in a tangle of verbiage but lost in wonder.

It is perhaps truer to say that Hopkins is one of our lesser great poets than to say that he is one of our great lesser poets.

The subject is infinitely complicated; the information is difficult to get at; and mistakes are easy to make.


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