Monday, January 23, 2006

I've been trying to think of something really interesting to say about the poems we had for class last time, but since it’s almost time for a new class with new readings I guess I'll just settle for a sort of incomplete set of thoughts.
Lee's poems are depressing, especially the first one, possibly only because it is more simple. There is a great deal of loss in coming to America. The second The Cleaving is beyond me. He makes some mention of Emerson, and I get the impression that the poem is to be a new Song of Myself; One that includes Lee and the other immigrants "too homesick to study" and his parents and his people and the world. But, this is not a joyful self assertion. There is more going on here, and I’m missing it.

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