Distrustful of the Gentian —
And just to turn away,
The fluttering of her fringes
Child my perfidy —
Weary for my —————
I will singing go —
I shall not feel the sleet — then —
I shall not fear the snow.
Flees so the phantom meadow
Before the breathless Bee —
So bubble brooks in deserts
On Ears that dying lie —
Burn so the Evening Spires
To Eyes that Closing go —
Hangs so distant Heaven —
To a hand below.
Emily Dickinson http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Distrustful_of_the_Gentian_%E2%80%94
Dear Fans Of Emily: Please excuse my being able to post an Emily Dickinson insert yesterday but, for some reason, I was in a state of "Confusion" (see poem from On The Poetry Bus" and today (well yesterday) a new insert for a Mappie. Not to worry. Today is "ketchup" day!
In this beatuiful "Gentian" poem (you remember what a genetian is? It is a thorny plant with has beautiful flowers that produce an edible food product; capers. Yes I have had capers. Only once in Sault Ste Marie Inn. I thought they were a fish product like caviar originally. Why? Because I ate them with, I believe, a type of fish. My favourite eating fish is white fish or wild BC red salmon. I think they remind me of fishy chick peas. I guess they are high in protein. They were ok. I wasn't overtly impressed but went "ayh" so this is capers, huh. I can take or leave capers. As a substitute I much prefer chickpeas. Wonders if there are quality capers that will "knock yer Willie socks off". This is, too, indeterminable at this time. Nonetheless. Anyway on with the show! End of silly story. OOps that was another poem and another plant. Gentians have NOTHING whatsoever to do with capers. I messed up BIG TIME. "Sorry"! Back to the poem!
As I read through this AMAZING poem the first time I was immediately STRUCK by something rather odd. Emily appears to me to be using a reworked idiom to her benefit and creative parleyance. Here is the line that wholly WOWed me.
"Child my perfidy" should it be; "chide my profoundity"? I don't know this just hit me like a iron skillet full of capers!
Whatever literary device Emily employs wholly serves up an excellent poetry on a platter. I really enjoyed diving in to this gastronomic literary feast.
Now let's go step-by-step and read all that is in these perky worded verses;
Distrustful of the Gentian —
And just to turn away,
The fluttering of her fringes
Child my perfidy —
Weary for my —————
I will singing go —
I shall not feel the sleet — then —
I shall not fear the snow.
Emily the great gamester become the modern ages heavy gamers. Amazing. The "gamey" part of this verse is of course, the missing "word" let deliberately _______ Mel Blanc. Blank. Ok. You got it...you got it! Now I am thinking it could be "friend or foe" but Emily did not want anyone to think (no, not even herself) that Sue could ever be considered a "foe" or "enemy" for not surrendering (maybe her physical presence here; to Emily). Emily has complicated the relationship which is indeed, a spiritual deep and enriched relationship we may not understand in it's complexity.).
What is that missing "word"? Let's read through again! I think it would be "weary for my "friend". I just think it could be "Sue" again. Emily does enjoy company! Especially her best friend "Sue".
Just like the Gentian plants' leaves turn or coil I believe upon the first indication of cooler fall weather, so does Emily's feelings turn hoping for her friend (perhaps Sue, most definitely Sue's swift return from some coastal summer playground).
Now why would she say "Distrustful of the gentian"? Emily would say this because she is distrustful of the "turn in the weather" just the same to Emily as "a turn in fair-weather friendship". Emily feels abandoned in this poem. It maybe a case of physically missing someone special's presence or it could be a tiff that the two have had, at this point I am not sure exactly, but I believe Sue will return.
"Perfidy" definition makes us aware that this poem is about "surrender". Please see definition below. Emily is almost saying an "aside" to Sue, calling her "Child". So it would read "Child, my surrender". I am certain Sue Gilbert-Dickinson would have known exactly what Emily meant here. Emily appears to be an obsessed fan of Sue's. I still believe (until proved otherwise; yes I'll read those essays)their relationship bespeaks of platonic love.
Indeed Emily will not fear "snow" or "sleet" (sounds like the US postal service) because....she is...SINGING! I think Sue and Emily had a duet. They must have made up songs and sung PROFUSELY! I can totally see this now! Wow! It is like a birds-eye camera Emily's poems, decipherable in all their emotional complexity! Simply amazing. I have something more amazing to tell you folks so please stay tuned
"Flees so the phantom meadow
Before the breathless Bee —
So bubble brooks in deserts
On Ears that dying lie —
Burn so the Evening Spires
To Eyes that Closing go —
Hangs so distant Heaven —
To a hand below!"
The next and last stanza of "Distrustful of the Gentian" is so beautiful! I can see why Emily is the consumate poet now! This is incredible!
"Phantom Meadow" the place in our minds which is covered with reality so often it is barely visited; like a ghost meadow of the mind. This image is phenomenal!
This ghost land has "breathless Bees". Have you ever heard of such a thing or imagined what a "breathless bee" would look like? Are they dead bees? Why not say "dead bees" because they are lifeless, maybe newly lifeless. Certain that Emily feels like a "breathless bee". She must have come upon one and decided to work it or weave it into her poem, being the ever-dutiful botanist; orithologist, bug doctor.
Emily does show much angst here. Death seems to get her goat or goad her coaxingly to the axis of annexed pain of the unknown. Seemingly, Emily conveys with great speed the immediacy of heaven and earth, spinning on our ear all our preformed images as she turns our thoughts to new VISIONS.
This stanza reminds me of a Salvador Dali painting with it's surrealistic imagery.
"Bubbling brooks in deserts" are not impossible, just not an image that most people have of deserts. When someone says deserts, if you've never been to one (I have not; only in my mind) than you know that you have a "stereo-typical image of the desert.
The imagery Emily conveys gives a richer, more meaningful emotion and full sensual experience to the images. She is capturing her imagination like a butterfly net (in this case a breathless bee net) and we are in AWE of the beingness of here works. Truly inspiring imagery. That is the art and the artist's domain to move the viewer, reader, etc to a fuller appreciation of experience than they had previous to the Emily Encounter. Ohoooohooo...Twilight Zone-ish? A bit! Emily certainly goes out on a phantom "limb" a place not many venture; she is, in my opinion, an amazing "sensitive". Wonders if she gifts of seeing or prophesy or premonitions; undoubtedly!
On deaf ears; emily turned this common idiom to "On ears that dying lie" giving a whole new context unearthed. To think that ears are dying to lie or that hear these "other worlds" of death and dying is like a John Edward-type of sensitive. I have to wonder Emily's is saying that the "bubbling brooks" in the desert are like ears that are dead people thus the "lie" or lying down or the lie of death; the great illusion since I believe Emily knows the soul once filled with the spirit, lives indeterminably in this non-dying of material world. Note in physics; matter does not cease to be or die, it just changes form. So to, Emily must realize this, somewhere in her Amberst College-trained mind.
Burn so the Evening Spires
To Eyes that Closing go —
Hangs so distant Heaven —
To a hand below!"
This poem is so good I am going to spend more time analysing it in more detail. This last 1/2 stanza; these last four lines speak volumes. The "Evening Spires" note the capitalization again, to allegorical figure in Emily's poetic device/design. I believe the "Evening Spires" are stars in the firmament. The night sky.
Stars being burning evening embers. Like a fire extinguished this contrast is nicely meted with the eyes closing (a dying person) and the stars "hang" in the desert like a screen unfolded or unfurled since time immemorial astronmers/astrologers gleaned the future from the stars. and Emily's hand catches these stars with her open hand. A dream/star catcher is Emily! However, she is her maudlin self, forever sad and wonton, brings forth such inspiring spires as her fine poetry! Amazing! Starry STarry night; did Emily have depression here? No, just a poetic sensibility that could give wide berth to such amazing potential of the potentiate.
Chiccoreal says; and much further inspiro from the spiral galaxy of our inspiration...dna spinning off these reams of gleamers. Of gentian fronds turn back to recoil; recall the time we share together; come away with me to another world close enough to touch..handing the universe out like a sheet in the wind gathering.our senses about us to awaken the breaching waves to surf-filled stars.
The Flaming InSpires; A Desert Evening Unfolds
Vast unwasteland
Desserted in the Desert
perifidy's Child
a new brand of old man
his white hair surfaces
fine-tuned and honing
pay attention to the 2nd coming!
for your home-fires Emily
Sue and you have not missed
abit from 1863
you're still here
sitting under the stars
I'm your biggest fan
flaming the fires
of ancient desires
opening truths
like a csn of sardines
packed in tight
like the stars tonight
Listen to the brook trout
away from ear-shot sound recoils
breathless as the bees
turning my feelings inside-out
Awaken to the dream
The magician's hand
awaits
jj
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