Friday, July 22, 2011

On Writing

There's a line from a poem that I can't place:  "Her dark is a bag/  with a man in it"  Possibly Matthew Sweeney.  Can you help?  It's driving me nuts.

I'm thinking of it today because it so effectively captures nighttime anxiety: darkness becomes like fighting with someone in a space that itself seems to be clinging to you.  There's a hint of kittens in  bag dropped into a river about the lines too.  Darkness, Struggle, Menace.

I feel like that about having to face the next chapter of the third culture lit book.  I'm in a bag with Barbara Kingsolver's Poisonwood Bible and my lap top.  Darkness, Struggle, Menace.

Let's see who's alive at the end of the month, shall we?

No comments:

Post a Comment