From cac44b6a30d8c0ba34f50031ed4e0d2a25b2d64e Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Madison Scott-Clary Date: Wed, 5 Jan 2022 18:45:05 -0800 Subject: [PATCH] update from sparkleup --- writing/3/seasons/index.md | 32 ++++++++++++++++---------------- 1 file changed, 16 insertions(+), 16 deletions(-) diff --git a/writing/3/seasons/index.md b/writing/3/seasons/index.md index bcf97e9f..5e0d4d7f 100644 --- a/writing/3/seasons/index.md +++ b/writing/3/seasons/index.md @@ -20,6 +20,19 @@ But a year, in particular, spirals up. It carries embedded within it a certain c Our years are delineated by the seasons, though, and the count of them is so few, and the duration long enough that we can run up against that first scent of snow late in the autumn and immediately be kicked down one level of the spiral in our memories. What were we doing the last time we smelled that non-scent? What about the time before? --> +The power of the cyclical nature of the year is of an importance that draws the heart onward[^spirals], and that which moves the heart is fair game for poetry. The demarcations for this cycle are the two solstices, with secondary markers at the equinoxes. One finds oneself at the longest night of the year and knows that, from there onwards, it is downhill into summer.[^slopes] One finds oneself at the longest day of the year and before oneself lies cooler times. + +[^spirals]: To be more exact, due to the (generally) linear nature of time, years spiral up. Days, of course spiral forward. +[^slopes]: I am not sold on this metaphor; uphill bears both positive and negative connotations, and it is difficult to say which to apply when. Ask a poet. + +The concept of seasons and seasonality is well known within poetry. Exploring that is beyond the scope of this paper.[^abilities] To rely on synecdoche is the best one can manage with a topic so large. To that end, it is worth exploring the poetry of Dwale in such a context. + +[^abilities]: Or perhaps my abilities as an author. + +Dwale (1979--2021; it/its) was a poet living in the Southern United States. As a member of the furry fandom, it presented itself as a 'cabbolf' --- a cat/rabbit/wolf hybrid --- often dressing in a Russian kosovorotka or Middle Eastern shalwar kameez. \parencite{dwale} + +Its work is described as focusing on "altered states of consciousness...poverty, addiction, subjectivity, and the transience of existence" \parencite{dwale}, though to reduce its body of work to any or all of those provides an inexact picture of its writing. This will be touched on in a future section on translation, but needless to say, this paper will focus on its work through the lens of seasonal progression. + ## Spring ''' @@ -37,17 +50,12 @@ At once he feels his lungs become bereft of breath, His daughter nudges him, to no effect. She walks away rememb'ring days they stalked the plains, Within her womb there grows a golden bloom. + +\parencite[26]{leaves} ''' -(Dwale, pg. 26) -### The poem - -### Analysis and parallels - -### The song - -### In life +Spring is commonly associated with newness. New growth, new life, new warmth under a new sun. ## Summer @@ -70,14 +78,6 @@ And shed the smoke rings on my cloven finger. (Dwale, pg. 8) -### The poem - -### Analysis and parallels - -### The song - -### In life - ## Autumn *Face down in the leaves*