Self-Portrait by Chase Twichell : Poetry Magazine
I've read that Chase Twichell is serious about and learned in Buddhism. I don't know much about it, but I wonder if "Self-Portrait" reveals a somewhat Buddhist dialogue within a self.
The big old Anhinga, also known as the snake bird or water turkey, is quite a sight. I think this one's in dialogue with himself, as he dries his wings in the sun.
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15 comments:
This really reminds me of the Jungian idea of the Shadow. It's a weird but beautiful poem....maybe a little sad but not cynical.
Now I'm gonna have to catch up on my Jung! (Unless of course you come back and explain . . .). "Sad but not cynical" works for me.
Hmmmm.
I admit to a lack of knowledge in Buddhism, but in fact this reminds me of a popular series of Norwegian children's books about a boy and his toy twig that comes to life.
PS And I really enjoy that water turkey! (I don't think we have it around here)
You're only Jung once.
I like the sound of the last three lines, though can't say I know what they mean.
Wonderful photos, as always.
It's delightfully mysterious. Could be the popular "inner child" - reincarnation or a dead child.....
The title is "Self Portrait"
RuneE, I think the book says the anhinga is only year-round in southern Florida, the Caribbean, and Central America.
RuneE and PA, Toy twig or inner child, don't they both work in roughly similar ways?
AH, eeeewwwww, as we like to say now. Computer Science department humor! I smiled, but with shame. I agree about the last 3 lines, though the conclusion to the other Twichell poem puzzled me more.
This is off topic, but I was searching Intimations of Immortality for a particular quote, and it struck me what a great and perfect poem this would have been if a ruthless editor had struck out half of it.
AH, these days, I'd say that about most of Wordsworth. (Brenda will yell at us, you understand). However, Wordsworth was as responsible for getting me into all this as anyone when I was 19, 20, etc., so I try to be kind. And there's still much to love. I trust you've seen the movie Splendour in the Grass more than once . . . Me too. That's a confession, not a boast.
NOOOOOOOO!
Leave Intimations of Immortality ALONE!
You mess with it and it will not be a Pindaric Ode any longer. You mess with it and suddenly Coleridge's reply "Dejection: An Ode" will mean nothing. History will be destroyed! Poetry will crash into nothingness...
Sigh.
Brenda, that's really, really good. Thank you. Of course, now I have guilt instead of the righteous victim-hood of being yelled at.
Glad my point got across.
Oh god, you two are practically a cult.
your a poet
but you don't know it
though your feet show it
their long fellows
ugh
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