my love for Vincent

i admit i've not read my fair share of poetry-- i know i need to round myself off with some Yeats and Wordsworth, etc.-- but i've always been drawn to Ms. Edna St. Vincent Millay. i love every poem written by her, as each one is clever and simple and captures something extraordinary and heavy in the undertones.

just to say, there is the favorite poet/writer versus the favorite poem/story. just as A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is my favorite book that doesn't mean Betty Smith's my favorite author. it's in liking every word and work penned by the favorite author that you choose them. with poetry, i know enough that Allen Ginsberg's "Howl" is my favorite poem. but Vincent, you just cannot choose one poem. there's the liveliness and old-time grace to her words, in describing nature like distressed beings and the grandness of a single person by how they see the time passing and the environment around them. i am going back to Vincent because soon i have to choose a favorite poem on which to present for my lyric poetry class-- and "Howl" has just been worn out for me.

it's a runner-up, the above, versus the simplicity and gratitude in "Recuerdo" and sighs of"Cap D'Antibes." i was reading them all today on BART into San Francisco this morning, and even if i couldn't choose it was nice that something kept me awake-- nice that i have stumbled upon once more a magnificent and classic lady like her.