Friday, September 12, 2014

A Poet’s Word

Filed under: General — m759 @ 11:29 AM

The White Goddess link in the previous post led to, among other things,
a discussion of “Yahoo” as a poet’s word.

Another poet’s word: Davos.

Sunnyvale News

Filed under: General — m759 @ 7:11 AM

See a TIME story from yesterday:

IMAGE- Photo of Sunnyvale, California, building dated May 13, 2014

See also a post from the above date:

Friday, May 23, 2014

She  Meets Her

Filed under: Uncategorized — m759 @ 2:01 PM

She :

The White Goddess in this journal.

Her :

“Eventually we see snow particles….”
— Screenplay by Spike Jonze

Friday, May 23, 2014

She Meets Her

Filed under: General — m759 @ 2:01 PM


The White Goddess in this journal.


“Eventually we see snow particles….”
Screenplay by Spike Jonze

Saturday, January 18, 2014

Dead Poets’ Word

Filed under: General — m759 @ 11:30 PM

Suggested by an ad on tonight's SAG awards

Part I:  "What will your verse be?"

Part II:  (Click to enlarge) —

Part III:  Marissa —

Related material — "Iahu" in Robert Graves's White Goddess

Friday, December 16, 2005

Friday December 16, 2005

Filed under: General,Geometry — m759 @ 2:00 PM
Jesus vs. the Goddess:
A Brief Chronology

In 1946, Robert Graves published King Jesus, an historical novel based on the theory and Graves’ own historical conjecture that Jesus was, in fact, the rightful heir to the Israelite throne… written while he was researching and developing his ideas for The White Goddess.”

In 1948, C. S. Lewis finished the first draft of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, a novel in which one of the main characters is “the White Witch.”

In 1948, Robert Graves published The White Goddess.

In 1949, Robert Graves published Seven Days in New Crete [also titled Watch the North Wind Rise], “a novel about a social distopia in which Goddess worship is (once again?) the dominant religion.”

Lewis died on November 22, 1963, the day John F. Kennedy was killed.

Related material:
Log24, December 10, 2005

Graves died on December 7 (Pearl Harbor Day), 1985.

Related material:
Log24, December 7, 2005, and
Log24, December 11, 2005

Jesus died, some say, on April 7 in the year 30 A.D.

Related material:

Art Wars, April 7, 2003:
Geometry and Conceptual Art,

Eight is a Gate, and

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Plato’s Diamond

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— Motto of
Plato’s Academy

“Plato is wary of all forms of rapture other than reason’s. He is most deeply leery of, because himself so susceptible to, the literary imagination. He speaks of it as a kind of holy madness or intoxication and goes on to link it to Eros, another derangement that joins us, but very dangerously, with the gods.”
Rebecca Goldstein in
    The New York Times,
    three years ago today
    (December 16, 2002) 
“It’s all in Plato, all in Plato;
 bless me, what do they
teach them at these schools?”
— C. S. Lewis in
the Narnia Chronicles

“How much story do you want?”
— George Balanchine

Tuesday, July 5, 2005

Tuesday July 5, 2005

Filed under: General — m759 @ 5:14 AM

For Christopher Fry
and the White Goddess:

The Edge of Eternity

Christian humanist playwright Christopher Fry, author of The Lady’s Not for Burning, died at 97 on June 30, 2005.

From Log24 on June 30:

Robert Graves, author of
The White Goddess:
A Historical Grammar of Poetic Myth

How may the King hold back?
Royally then he barters life for love.

Or of the undying snake from chaos hatched,
Whose coils contain the ocean,
Into whose chops with naked sword he springs,
Then in black water, tangled by the reeds,
Battles three days and nights…

From Cold Mountain:

“He sat awhile on a rock, and then got up and walked all morning through the dim woods. The track was ill used, so coiled and knotted he could not say what its general tendency was. It aimed nowhere certain but up. The brush and bracken grew thick in the footway, and the ground seemed to be healing over, so that in some near future the way would not even remain as scar. For several miles it mostly wound its way through a forest of immense hemlocks, and the fog lay among them so thick that their green boughs were hidden. Only the black trunks were visible, rising into the low sky like old menhirs stood up by a forgotten race to memorialize the darkest events of their history….

They climbed to a bend and from there they walked on great slabs of rock. It seemed to Inman that they were at the lip of a cliff, for the smell of the thin air spoke of considerable height, though the fog closed off all visual check of loftiness….

Then he looked back down and felt a rush of vertigo as the lower world was suddenly revealed between his boot toes. He was indeed at the lip of a cliff, and he took one step back…. The country around was high, broken. Inman looked about and was startled to see a great knobby mountain forming up out of the fog to the west, looming into the sky.  The sun broke through a slot in the clouds, and a great band of Jacob’s ladder suddenly hung in the air like a gauze curtain between Inman and the blue mountain….

Inman looked at the big grandfather mountain and then he looked beyond it to the lesser mountains as they faded off into the southwest horizon, bathed in faint smoky haze. Waves of mountains. For all the evidence the eye told, they were endless. The grey overlapping humps of the farthest peaks distinguished themselves only as slightly darker values of the pale grey air. The shapes and their ghostly appearance spoke to Inman in a way he could not clearly interpret. They graded off like the tapering of pain from the neck wound as it healed.”

See also the entries of July 3.

The crone figure in this section of Cold Mountain is not entirely unrelated to the girl accused of being a witch in Fry’s play and to Graves’s White Goddess.

From Fry’s obituary in The Guardian:

“Though less of a public theorist than Eliot, Fry still believed passionately in the validity of poetic drama. As he wrote in the magazine Adam: ‘In prose, we convey the eccentricity of things, in poetry their concentricity, the sense of relationship between them: a belief that all things express the same identity and are all contained in one discipline of revelation.'”

From Fry’s obituary in today’s New York Times:

“His plays radiated an optimistic faith in God and humanity, evoking, in his words, ‘a world in which we are poised on the edge of eternity, a world which has deeps and shadows of mystery, and God is anything but a sleeping partner.’ He said he wrote his plays in poetry because that was ‘the language in which man expresses his own amazement’ at the complexity both of himself and of a reality which, beneath the surface, was ‘wildly, perilously, inexplicably fantastic.'”

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