Booth Tarkington’s Alice Adams

My appropriation of Booth Tarkington’s Alice Adams continues.  Here’s an excerpt:

You were hopeful a week ago
that you could make even asperity listen
but realized that,
philosophically, the hothouse of words
is neither a fluffy idealization
nor a dreamed and unfounded drama.
It is a ransacked background
drenched in camellias,
but, as in a great bouquet with no
flowers, the unknown magnifico
may be there.
Sometimes, you said,
you returned to an opened meadow
in which the surcharged moments
were forever a omen of what your rare
and protracted attention would become,
a not wholly recognizable expanse
dreamily groomed in dismaying detail.
It always stems from a transitory meeting
in the way that jazz can produce
intensely sympathetic difficulties
with the introduction of a hearer.

In the white archway of prophecies,
besooted questions dropped
before a tiny shot of blue.

Read the rest here.

~ by Michael Leong on April 5, 2013.

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