This is my flower. You can borrow it, but you better damn well give it back. There is something sexual about this exchange.
In The Emily Dickinson Reader, Paul Legault… transforms? translates? reduces? poems by Emily Dickinson into sentences phrased in the modern vernacular. Hmm!
Amanda recoiled at the thought—isn’t poetry what can’t be put into other words? But on second thought, she thinks it’s probably a useful instructional exercise.
Dickinson’s brilliance is bigger than her poems.
(Via Sullivan)
Notes
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