In an upcoming review of SMUDGE it’s put, Louis MacNeice’s poet had better deal with the incorrigible plurality of life, but James won’t have anything to do with it. Maybe not. I find the duality in all things, comparison in opposites, but my aim, should I focus on such a thing, perhaps is more the unity of the moment. “…James is the poet of the moment.”
We must interpret meanings in their
own light. Blake’s The Sick Rose, has strong religious or psychological overtones. Dylan might be singing of
Christian promise in Shelter from the storm, Or is it simply a love
song? Is it in the heart, or mind? In the distance between those poles: room to manoeuvre.
If the opposite of time is eternity, there’s unity, even purpose in a world we
are part of and cannot long ignore.
O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
