Evil Wrapped in a Fangirl Disguise

Revisiting some of Lucille Clifton's poems while I'm waiting for The Big Bang Theory

I've always found her poems dealing with Creation and Lucifer interesting. So I am going to share one.

lucifer speaks in his own voice

sure as i am
of the seraphim
folding wing
so am i certain of a
graceful bed
and a soft caress
along my long belly
at endtime it was
to be
i who was called son
if only of the morning
saw that some must walk or all will crawl
so slithered into earth
and seized the serpent in
the animals i became
the lord of snake for
adam and for eve
i the only lucifer
light-bringer
created out of fire
illuminate i could
and so
illuminate i did

Dear LJ, stop futzing with spacing when I post poetry, you whore. :(

For the last couple of days, I've had "The Wife of Bath's Tale" stuck in my head. The first seven lines are circling there like lyrics from a song. I guess I blame the Medieval Poetry Reading. Otherwise it would just be other bits of Chaucer making me crazy.

In th'olde dayes of the king Arthour,
Of which that Britons speken greet honour,
All was this land fulfild of fairye.
The elf-queene with her joly compaignye
Daunced ful ofte in many a grene mede.
This was the olde opinion, as I rede--
I spake of may hundred yeres ago.

But now kan no man seen none elves mo,
For new the grete charitee and prayers
Of limitours and othere hooly freres,
That serchen every lond and every streem
As thikke as motes in the sonne-beem,
Blessinge halles, chambres, kichenes, boures,
Citees, burghes, castels, hye toures,
Thropes, bernes, shipnes, daieryes.
This maketh that there been no fairyes.
For there as wont to walken was an elf
There walketh now the limitour himself,
In undermeles and in morweninges,
And seyth his matins and his hooly thinges
As he gooth in his limitacioun.
Wommen may go new saufly up and doun.
In every bussh or under every tree
There is noon oother incubus but he,
And he no wol doon hem but dishonour.

This is going to sound dirty, but I love the way Middle English feels in my mouth. For example, I really like the feel of "Arthour" and "As thikke as motes in the sonne-beem," among others. As well as this post's subject line. I don't know. I just like the way that it feels, the way my mouth has to work. And I love the resulting sound. This is why Chaucer in English will never ever be as great.

I miss Masculinity in the Middle Ages. And Chaucer. Oh, school.

(Note to self: Be careful with spellcheck when using Middle English.)

Because I read an interview with Sherman Alexie in which he mentioned Lucille Clifton and I had to pick my copy of Blessing the Boats up again, here are two of her poems I enjoy. (Two more here.)

why some people be mad at me sometimes

they ask me to remember
but they want me to remember
their memories
and i keep on remembering
mine

*

blessing the boats

may the tide
that is entering even now
the lip of our understanding
carry you out
beyond the face of fear
may you kiss
the wind then turn from it
certain that it will
love your back may you
open your eyes to water
water waving forever
and may you in your innocence
sail through this to that

( Donne Blather )

Basically, what does it mean that the revised sequence (of 12) of the "Holy Sonnets" ends with:

Yet such are thy laws, that men argue yet
Whether a man those statues can fulfil.
None doth; but all-healing grace and spirit
Revive and quicken what law and letter kill.
Thy law's abridgement, and thy last command
Is all but love. Oh let that last will stand.

While Donne's original sequence ended with:

And as a robb'd man, which by search doth find
His stol'n stuff sold, must lose or buy'it again,
The son of glory came down and was slain,
Us whom he'd made, and Satan stole, to'unbind.
'Twas much that man was made like God before,
But, that God should be made like man, much more.

I think maybe I should take a break. If I don't, I might start making Donne puns again.

Although, hmm, interesting that the original sequence begins "Thou hast made me" and ends with "'Twas much that man was made like God before, / But, that God should be made like man, much more." Probably nothing there, but it's something to look at.

Got my Yeats analysis back today. A-. Didn't screw up like I thought I did with the "d'oh" moment in the first half. Yea.

Reading Seamus Heaney's poem "Digging" in class today made me miss the farm in summer.

Heroes returns tonight. Veronica Mars returns tomorrow. Woo. I'll be at work both nights (probably - I'm kind of thinking about getting a night off).

I'm really glad I bought Bones. Love everyone on it.

Have 1000-something lines to read in Troilus & Criseyde before ten tomorrow. Um. Not going to happen considering I start work in, oh, 12 minutes. Girl can dream, though, right?

Two more days of classes. One more week of this quarter. Thank goodness.

Had to go watch W;t for Intertextuality. It's a great film, though very emotionally taxing. Even though I've seen it multiple times, it still affects me. It was actually my first introduction to John Donne, whom I love. And because of W;t, Sonnet x (VI in the play) has always been one of my favorites.

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou are not soe,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee;
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then they stroake; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more, death, thou shalt die.

Anyway, I got back from the film and cried for a bit. Then Natasha and I practiced our Spanish skit for tomorrow and I moved on to watching Stronge Bad E-mail and now Sean of the Dead is playing in the background. Meanwhile, I can't frelling wait for this week to be over. This week and this quarter. I *need* a break. I want to go home and do nothing and not be bothered and just *relax* for a week. (Well, relax and help take care of Dad.)

In film news, there is now a trailer out for the new Pride & Prejudice that is "coming soon." Apparently in September I hear. OMG, I'm so excited. I think it's going to be good. They show part of the first proposal and Darcy looks like his heart is breaking. I hate to say it, because it's practically blasphemy to P&P fans, but I could see myself liking this Darcy, or the Darcy I see in the trailer, better than Colin Firth's Darcy. In Matthew MacFadyen's Darcy there just seems to be something more...melancholy. According to the people RoP, MM saw Darcy as "a young man who's lost, who's grieving for his parents and has this huge responsibility of running the house and looking after his sister - which is construed as hauteur and arrogance. People are usually only haughty because of fear." And, y'know, I can go for that. Darcy's arrogant because he thinks his slightly better than people, and then is even more arrogant because it's a defense mechanism to keep people from really bothering him about any of it. Hey, it's an interpretation. More than CF's Darcy, the one in the trailer really seems like the type of man who even a small smile would mean worlds from. I just...want to wrap him up and give him tea.

At this moment, I don't care if it's faithful to the novel and the time period or not. It looks good. And MM looks like he's going to be a great Darcy that I can get behind. Besides, I did end up loving the most recent Mansfield Park.

But I want to see it *now*.

Reading The Waste Land for Intertextuality.

::scratches head::

Um.

::squint::

Huh.