Flavors of Neruda...Fleas

To say that Pablo Neruda's writing is breathtaking is like saying Jimmy Page's guitar playing was decent. The Nerudian way of speaking stuns me, and it reminds me of Mark Strand's "Eating Poetry." I can take two or three words from a Neruda piece at a time and just leave them in my mouth, tasting them over and over again. He was an absolutely incredible wordsmith. Here, below, is one of my favorite Neruda pieces. I love him calling fleas "delicate acrobats." I wonder perhaps if he is talking about nonsocialists, his political adversaries, or perhaps the simplistic masses...how odd, then, to call mass culture "the softest and most profound circus," and yet how accurate. It's difficult not to read this and think some of who we personally view as parasitic members or groups of society. I wanted to share this poem not for its meaning, but because I admire its amazing diction and very curious phrases. Neruda's genius is unmatched.

Fleas Interest Me So Much

Fleas interest me so much

that I let them bite me for hours.

They are perfect, ancient, Sanskrit,

machines that admit of no appeal.

They do not bite to eat,

they bite only to jump;

they are the dancers of the celestial sphere,

delicate acrobats

in the softest and most profound circus;

let them gallop on my skin,

divulge their emotions,

amuse themselves with my blood,

but someone should introduce them to me.

I want to know them closely,

I want to know what to rely on.

(Just Like) Starting Over

Hola! Well, here's to my first post in a brand-new blog. I've been on Blogger for a few years now. My first blog, "Watching the Wheels," [whatsthenewmaryjane.blogspot.com] was a very intimate diary, kept on Private, and only shared with one confidante.

My brand-new blog, "Junk," will not be so personal. Its purpose is so far undetermined, but I assure you it will serve as a sounding board when I need to bitch and complain, or when I simply want to share! And, truthfully, I hope it will restore my regular writing habits, which, unfortunately, have become infrequent and poor in quality. (Perhaps "Junk" will also inspire me to finally update "Watching the Wheels," too.)

In celebration of "starting over," I'll begin by sharing what is probably my all-time favorite poem.

LOOKING AT PICTURES TO BE PUT AWAY

Gary Snyder

Who was this girl

In her white nightgown

Clutching a pair of jeans

On a foggy redwood deck

She looks up at me tender

Calm, surprised

What will we remember

Bodies thick with food and lovers

After twenty years

P.S.: Check me out on http://www.twitter.com/alliwillingham, too!