#1452
Your thoughts don’t have words ever day
They come a single time
Like signal esoteric sips
Of the communion Wine
Which while you taste so native seems
So easy to be
You cannot comprehend its price
Nor its infrequency
– Emily Dickinson
Kate Monahan shares her experience with putting Carolyn See’s “charming note” idea into practice.
Quoting See:
“These notes are like paper airplanes sailing around the world, and they accomplish a number of things at once. They salute the writer (or editor or agent) in question. They say to him or her: Your work is good and admirable! You’re not laboring in a vacuum. There are people out in the world who know what you do and respect it.”
And:
“These are paper airplanes of affection. They are the glue of human sweetness in literary society.”
Tip of the hat: Mark Levy
From David Orr’s article on “Greatness” in poetry:
“What is strange,” the poet-critic J. D. McClatchy writes, “is how her influence . . . has been felt in the literary culture. John Ashbery, James Merrill and Mark Strand, for instance, have each claimed [Elizabeth] Bishop as his favorite poet. . . . Since each of them couldn’t be more different from one another, how is it possible?”
It’s possible in the same way that other “great” artists have inspired diverse sets of peers and progeny.
There’s the old story about the Velvet Underground, that not many people actually heard them, but nearly everyone who did went and started a band. Were they great? I think some of their songs are — the droning “All Tomorrow’s Parties” has been a favorite of mine since I was twelve or thirteen. Detractors grumble about them playing out of tune, the unevenness of their rhythm section, the sloppy mixing, or the chaotic performances.
But beyond those petty complaints, what better legacy could you ask for than seeding an entire generation that grew in so many different directions?