found an echo of SP’s “Lesbos” in Prufrock when a lady read it on a podcast I was listening to this morning. It BLEW MY MIND.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
and
It is love you are full of. You know who you hate.
He is hugging his ball and chain down by the gate
That opens to the sea
Where it drives in, white and black
then spews it back.
I love to find that poets by and large collect sparklies to feather their nest, and I love to see that sparkle in someone else’s work and go YES! THERE!
