(no subject)
I miss Mr. Craver a whole lot. I'm not really sure what brought about this sudden onset of incredible sadness. Maybe the time of year. I was reading his book Seven Crowns for the White Lade of the Other World and Blood Poems. So good. Here's one of my favorite poems of his...or ever.
Poem for Amy Michelle
I shuck these corny love sonnets
and organize my stutter,
as if my stutter
would make it honest.
You surprise me into thinking
dangerously of you, as if
by thinking dangerously
the danger was somehow less.
You are sweet ancient Chinese poetry
chanted gently in the morning,
as if the morning
could hold the words' music.
Amy, hold these bloody truths for me in open
hands that don't even know how to make a fist.
Amy, hold them for me in open hands that
wake laughter from my knuckled sadness.
Amy, hold me from them in hands
that touch me like your name,
as if by holding me
I would not bleed again.
-Mark Craver
He didn't think I'd make it into William and Mary. I wonder all the time what he thinks of me there--in classes, writing papers, taking tests. Is he proud?
I've got to write my Capstone. And read Moby Dick.