Conversation. Especially literature and language, education, football and baseball, movies, history, then and now, birds, two-lane roads. "Banjo" is a fun word, and the instrument can make fine music. But this isn't really a blog about banjos, except in the metaphorical sense of interesting sounds riding across a valley from one porch to another. Click on any photo to enlarge. Students, remember to footnote. All text and photos: © 2009-2014 Banjo52
Jul 21, 2010
SHADY GROVE, DOC WATSON, MARY OLIVER, MAURICE MANNING
YouTube - David Holt and Doc Watson: Shady Grove
For just a bit longer, let's continue with the American Primitive--hey, that's the title of Mary Oliver's 1983 collection, my introduction to her work. Here she is. See any connection to Maurice Manning's poem from Bucolics?
washingtonpost.com: Style Live: Books & Reading
Now Maurice Manning:
Bucolics [LIX] - Poets.org - Poetry, Poems, Bios & More
I still think Manning's "Boss" is God, a shadow stone, a weight that won't move. But if memory serves, I didn't convince anyone last November 15.
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All right, now I have to find November 15th, because I see god, too.
ReplyDeleteWill be back later to discuss.
AH, now that's due diligence! And please note, everyone, you can go to Banjo and find god. It even works for Californians.
ReplyDeleteHave I just blasphemed?
Also for everyone--for old posts, you can type in a key word, like "Maurice Manning," in the white box in top left corner of this, or any, post. I had to do that myself, had no idea when we last talked about Manning here.
Hope it's worth it.
Oh good, I didn't say he was god, but I didn't say he wasn't god. I was watching the horsies.
ReplyDeleteIf the Mary Oliver poem is about god, then I don't like it; it's a poor argument. Go pull up the plant if you want to verify the roots.
The Manning poem could be god or fate, death, or even money. Anything with the power to absolutely dominate so nothing is really our own.
That's one of the loveliest poems you've posted.
ReplyDeleteWhat is it with corn? Of course it was always sacred in the Americas, but it's become the universal crop: in China they grew it, and here in Gambia too: tiny front yards are stuffed with seedlings.
OK, I see Boss as a slave owner. And the poem written by a slave who both loves his owner but fears him/knows his place. Never to challenge, always to agree - and always to carry the burden that Boss drops on him.
ReplyDeleteAs for Mary Oliver - maybe that just isn't her forte. Maybe she makes a great ratatouille but she can't tell you how the crops are grown. Maybe she just tries too hard and is already feeling failure. Damn it, I wish she'd quit complaining. She goes on too long with her lack of hearing!