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My mind wandering. A comic references Wuthering Heights. I read… - Moving at the Speed of Procrastination. [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
E.G.

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[Oct. 27th, 2016|03:08 pm]
E.G.
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My mind wandering. A comic references Wuthering Heights. I read Wikipedia for a plot outline. Musicians have songs inspired by Wuthering Heights. I'm not sure why this surprises me. I linger on my surprise, realize i assume an inspiration of immediate passions and pains like my high school poetry, realize looking up from personal angst doesn't mean silencing, ponder what makes for my daily inspirations and wonder how forced a poem about connecting to teleconferences would sound. I think about my poetry professor in college, the horror of his metaphors of contemporary technology and how they grated on my sensibilities. ("Disk drive of the universe" floats in with a shudder.) Surely, new technology has made its way into poetry without being forced. How long did poets restrict themselves to candles after other forms of light? Surely street lights were met with a prompt poetic response? The painters certainly reveled in the new atmosphere. How would i search for an answer: "critical response poets artificial lights"?

I find http://homepages.wmich.edu/~cooneys/poems/Clark.artificial.light.html -- a lovely poem.

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Comments:
[User Picture]From: randomdreams
2016-10-28 01:15 am (UTC)
Kate Bush's song Wuthering Heights was the first song she ever did, and I'm not sure she ever managed to write or perform a better song. It inspired a ton of people. I even hung out on a multi-user virtual reality that was strongly WH-influenced, in the early 1990's.
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[User Picture]From: songquake
2016-10-28 01:47 am (UTC)
I'm reminded of Simon and Garfunkel (Paul Simon's poetry being that which I find easiest to memorize, being that it's sensical and sung):

The last train is nearly due
The underground is closing soon and
In the dark deserted Station,
Restless with anticipation,
A man waits in the shadows...



And also

The night sets softly
With the hush of falling leaves,
Casting shivering shadows
On the houses through the trees,
And the light from a street lamp
Paints a pattern on my wall,
Like the pieces of a puzzle
Or a child's uneven scrawl.
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[User Picture]From: gurdonark
2016-10-28 11:44 am (UTC)
though I respect anyone's views on matters of taste, I am atill amused by articles which piously recite that folks who write long-hand are somehow doing it more creatively than folks who write on a computer.
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