A Strain of Inspiration
Brendan grabbed his kids-friendly camera on sudden impulse: “Say, ‘Cheeeeeese!’” He drew out the vowel sound as long as he could, snapping two or three pictures of his awkward father.
He kept laughing the entire time.• I am in the middle of rereading William Wordworth’s “Preface” to his book Lyrical Ballads. Glad to say, the majority of which I maintained in my analytical memory cells.
Partly I am seeking a defense for my fractured sonnets— partly seeking a strain of inspiration— every time I read these pages something new is highlighted or underlined. Some of my past marks are illegible, aligned with uncertain notations in the margins. And I am getting lost in all of his ideas. Trying to match up his notations with my notions. (As a confirmation.)
Perhaps it would be best to just write out a major chunk of my information first, and then go back, seeking a few defensible texts later.
He kept laughing the entire time.
Partly I am seeking a defense for my fractured sonnets— partly seeking a strain of inspiration— every time I read these pages something new is highlighted or underlined. Some of my past marks are illegible, aligned with uncertain notations in the margins. And I am getting lost in all of his ideas. Trying to match up his notations with my notions. (As a confirmation.)
Perhaps it would be best to just write out a major chunk of my information first, and then go back, seeking a few defensible texts later.
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