If you read last week's brief post, you know that this blog had a six-year dormancy. I found four drafts that must have been forgotten—like dollars in a spring jacket. This was the most interesting of the four. I have a vague recollection of writing this and talking about it in a college poetry workshop. I have another vague recollection of writing it while working at the library's microfilm desk. I'm not sure what the line breaks are all about, but I'm pleased with the language. Usually I'm embarrassed by my old poetry, but I kinda like this! It's sweet.
Have you found forgotten art lately? How did you react to it?
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"Antiquarian" things...
Dear Lisbon-
Thank you for your last letter. Yes, I agree- taking walks are entertaining and healthy. Sometimes, I like nothing more than to be
Outside, steadily walking, it neither tires nor bores me. I am trying to think of my favorite place to walk around here. Perhaps near
the university and the library, both forms of antiquity among the new, impersonal, corporate square monsters sharpening the blocks since I've been in school here.
But, the Cathedral is a rock. It will still stand with in its Neo-Gothic lovely until another melted ice age wears it as sand.
Yours, Majourie
***
Dearest Majourie-
Walking is healthy, but mostly sweet. On a walk today I thought of you. Along the route that I took there are yellow, laughing
daffodils. Though, when I’m in Wordsworth’s “vacant or pensive mood,” it is not the daffodils that fill my heart with pleasure
but a loose sheet of paper with petals of hand writing remnant of you. Now, I stare at the wall as if the closing of this letter will
bleed out of the matte fading peach paint. I hope that you will be obliged to
walk with me when I see you?
Love, Lisbon
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