This is where my thoughts pool as a reservoir of miscellany and peculiarity. It's actually not my brain that's dripping -- it's my soul that's leaking. It's really no big deal.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
I'm thinking about Ezra Pound this morning
I suspect he was the poetic equivalent to Mozart in music -- an aesthetic savant, a natural genius. I suspect that, like Mozart, Pound rarely revised. The words most likely flowed with perfect pitch and effortless cadence. Nothing superfluous or clumsy in the execution of his intent. Whether or not his poems mean anything thematically significant to a given person, I think the fact remains: Pound produced exemplary lines, moving with aesthetic assurance and containing metaphors as brilliant and spiraling as the notes of a magic flute.
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