I Am
By John Clare
I AM -- yet what I am, none cares or knows;
My friends forsake me like a memory lost:
I am the self-consumer of my woes --
They rise and vanish in oblivion's host,
Like shadows in love frenzied stifled throes
And yet I am, and live -- like vapors tost
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life or joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my lifes esteems;
Even the dearest that I love the best
Are strange -- nay, rather, stranger than the rest.
I long for scenes where man hath never trod
A place where woman never smiled or wept
There to abide with my Creator God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie
The grass below, above, the vaulted sky.
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From Poet's Choice in The Washington Post Book World, a poem that Robert Pinsky calls "a sublime song from what some might call self-pity." Pinsky suggests the inherent solitude, even loneliness, of lyric poetry, saying "that feeling has rarely been expressed with more conviction, in less space," than in Clare's poem" "The intensity of his 'vast shipwreck' where those he loves are 'stranger than the rest' comes from his lonely heart, candidly and entirely personal. That viewpoint underlines the poignancy of his craving for an 'untroubling and untroubled' sleep."
After a somewhat chaotic morning -- during which I tried to write up Star Trek news (Kate Mulgrew on women over 50, Rick Berman on divorcing Trek) while
We were hoping to go to Rockets and Robots Day at the Maryland Science Center, but the kids were tired and hungry -- it had taken us a long time to get to Baltimore due to ridiculous traffic on the Beltway, which was even worse when we returned home as people poured into College Park to celebrate
Last time we were aboard, it was the stern chaser being fired for demonstrations, but that is not an option now the ship has been turned since it would be aiming directly at the Tir Na Nog restaurant in Harborplace.
Tacking in front of the Clipper City, this is the victorious sailboat, whose name regrettably I did not catch and which I can't find in The Baltimore Sun which is much more preoccupied with the day's higher-profile Baltimore Marathon.
She's a beauty, though; here she is sailing past Federal Hill.
Here is the Constellation at sunset, facing out into the harbor.
Both kids fell asleep in the car, which means that they were totally hyper once we got home and it was a rather insane evening. Younger son was walking around with a gun-type thing made of Legos that he said was a Dummy Detector, and so far we have all been found to be dummies. Then there were tonight's meaningful animal questions: (1) If you cross a bulldog and a shih tzu, do you get a bullshihtzu? (2) If the feline that played Data's cat wrote an autobiography like Leonard Nimoy did, would it be called I Am Not Spot? So now I am drinking $4 Merlot and watching Tom Baker Doctor Who (with Sarah Jane Smith!)
Huzzah Detroit! And happy birthday
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