- David’s—the character in the poem—mental state is likened to Beksinski, trees and war.
- The “bellicosity” of his roots—that is the roots of poverty, which gives one the will to persevere through trial— Fragmented, therefore a complete thought. It is Juxtaposed with the “Evening” which “Descends in a sob.”
- There is a colorless chill—imagery invoking an action shot, or dramatic scene, drawing its image from movies. And a “Gelid Whisper”. Making the imagery that of bitter cold being carried by a light wind. “All of it”
- “Is Whispering and whimpering”—juxtaposed with the former character trait of strength, given to him by his roots. The character is on his own, and is fluttering on his own.
- He speaks of home again. The home is likened to a “Moraine”, with phonetic similarity to “Murrain”. He’s home sick. And Home is like a towering Geological Structure.
- “Imagery”
- “Imagery”
- “Imagery”
- “Imagery” The following four lines give imagery of a Moraine, an ancient geological formation, something natural, old, timeless. All of the descriptions are of Moraine structures, which can produce beautiful colors and patterns on the layers of their geological strata—Poem will further allude to this pattern when it likens David’s homesickness to the “morphology” of the rock layers.
- “Thoughts wince into vision”, an allusion to one’s complete vision of the Mind’s Eye fading into sight. Then what’s seen are “Starlings” breaking the moment with “Jocose Murmuring”. That is to say the bitterness is being disturbed by the “Starlings”. Starlings are a type of blackbird.
- The image of the flock of starlings “Tears” at the sky and one is reminded
- “In a state of subtle sadness.” The image invoked is that of the sadness invoked by the image of the Starlings. Their nonchalance elicits a response from David of, what is perhaps, his low estate.
- “It takes years to digest”. There is a slow decent into becoming, oneself, trivial. It is slow, and methodical, and it turns oneself into a background like character, rather than the central focus of the story. The feeling is being minimalized, and finding oneself unimportant.
- “It takes shape within oneself”
- “To gain contour and morphology” relating the feeling to the set geological foundation of Moraines. Settled against the abandonment from home, and the recognition that one’s place in the world is minimalized.
- One being reminded—by the moraines—of “David fluttering on his own.” The unforgettable
- Nature of “Otherness.” Which the poem meditates on. The somber feeling of the Moraines in their geological form, cold and splendid. The moraines elicit the same kind of feeling, which is analogous with the briskness of the moraine. Related to the nature of there being other things, and being cognizant that we—our own ego—are not the only ones occupying this world. We find ourselves barren by the realization. Yet we lose it—kind of like how a child grows into an adult, and no longer needs the parental guidance to survive. However, the poem analyzes it in relation to the moraine.
- “We lose ourselves gladly.” I don’t think people want to meditate on the rumination, to have that awareness that they are alone, or are not central to the world. It’s an eerie feeling, recognizing we are not central to the movements of the world, and when we’re left all alone, it can be cold.
Thoughts: I think the poem expresses the notion of recognizing we are not central to the world, and that other wills and forces exist, which are out of our control. Much like the geological forces of the glaciers which create the Moraines. The notion is an eerie feeling, which separates us from our ego, and gives us an outside perspective, minimalizing us. I commented on Joao-Maria‘s blog, feeling the emotions of the poem, but not really understanding it. So I decided to do an in depth analysis of it, and this is my take from the poem.
João-Maria. “Poetry Without a Place, 23.” WordPress, 2020. https://wordpress.com/read/blogs/143826840/posts/2482. 6/16/2020. Web.
I’m happy you extracted so much out of this, and I’m in awe of your interpretation and the depth at with you were willing to perscrutate my rather locked-tight semiology. I speak in a language of my own, I often find. It’s not easy to find those who are available to try and learn it, which does not break my heart. This Art I chose, I chose it for its isolation.
Thank you, Neifert. This means quite a bit to me.
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You liking it is the highest honor. Thank you Joao. I was worried you wouldn’t.
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