Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Okay I am sooo addicted to this I am almost tempted to do a reading. There are some girls who use to play with dolls, I played with tape recorders. Lord help you all and btw, I am taking requests. Oh I want to read Sexton’s I Have Been Her Kind, very badly but it is such a let down if you have heard the master.

http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15297
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6 comments:

Emily Lloyd said...
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6:46 PM
Emily Lloyd said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
7:33 PM
early hours of sky said...

Well you already have Sexton. I cant do her after you listened to her...that is like poetry sin.

8:07 PM
LKD said...

I'm still trying to get over my reaction to Gluck's reading of her poppy poem. Her voice...really disturbed the hell out of me.

Then I go and listen to Ms. Dog--and oh, geez, T, I just never expected her to sound....like a mother. I know that sounds stupid or simplistic. But I was expecting a much darker, more dramatic voice. Instead, I heard a voice that...god, it could've been my mother reading that poem.

Here, I just wrote this. You wrote that lovely skin horse poem on my blog. I just wrote this on yours:

Still (after listening to Anne Sexton read “Her Kind”)

What I did not expect, what I could not guess
as the dead woman did her best
impression of a witch—bitch,
she would have guffawed—or god--was that voice:
A reckless edge, honed, a knife
that laughed as it gutted the apple’s white heart
and chuckled as it slit the green bean
expertly down the middle. I could not have dreamt
that siren’s song would sound exactly as violent
and happy as my mother’s
as she chatted like a woman possessed
on the phone, snapping her fingers,
those hard, hard bones, to hush me
as I made too much noise pulling the heads
off my Barbies. That underlying,
tone of want that could not be fulfilled wakes me
in the middle of the night; my mother is alive,
yet, she haunts me. Still.

10:56 PM
early hours of sky said...

Yes but Sexton was a mother in all that power and a woman, that is one of the things that makes her amazing. Unfortnatley she lost the battle within herself. I like the poem Laurel now dont go deleting, T

5:05 AM
LKD said...

Doh! I feel like a kid getting caught with my hand in the cookie jar (or um, thrust deep into a package of double stuff Oreos). I just came back to delete it. (grin)

Damn, have I really become that predictable? (smile)

Okay, I'll leave it up.

Oh, and I meant to say that I hear you on the addictability -- is that even a word?? -- of this audioblog thing. I swear, I'd do it nonstop, all day and all night long if it weren't for the long distance charges. (sigh)

8:15 AM

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