we are asleep with compasses in our hands

[nightdog_barks]

That's a line from a poem by W.S. Merwin, called The Estuary. He passed away this morning, aged 91. Here's one of his short poems --

Separation

Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.

Comments

[lovelythings]

That's a good one.

[nightdog_barks]

Isn't it? He was a guy who really knew his way around words. ♥ ♥ ♥

[topaz_eyes]

That poem is perfect. Wow.

[nightdog_barks]

It's gorgeous! And I mean, entire worlds could be written around those three lines.

[bironic]

RIP.

That poem was one of the first we studied in AP English in high school. Still remember spending many minutes discussing the effectiveness of the choice of the word "stitched."

[nightdog_barks]

Oh, interesting! You know, I can see how he could've used the word sewn there, in keeping with the needle-and-thread theme, and then you'd get the sewn/sown contrast, but. Stitched, with its big ST sound, is such a strong word.

[bironic]

There's something painful about the consonants there, the jump from t to t -- "stitched" -- you can feel it going through his gut. Also fascinating, the choice of the loved one's absence as the thread rather than the eye of the needle. His loss, his grief, makes just as much sense as the eye, but the description is unexpected.

[taiga13]

Whew. Three such powerful lines.