PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Please forgive my failure to: Please forgive my failure to reply to this.  At the time, my email was not bringing notifications to me.

I don't know if there is: I don't know if there is anything I can add which others here haven't already said, but I want to - at the very least - give a nod, a second (or third, or fourth) to each notion of praise that has been laid at your feet for this piece. It's remarkable.

You're welcome. And I have: You're welcome. And I have the same impression. As I imagine it, the sciences and the arts shared a much smaller (literal) structural space, where these figures often crossed paths and perhaps - sometimes just feet apart - did their work. Their are countless places for intellectuals to spend their time in their relatively closed circles now, but in those days the such available spaces had to be far, far fewer in number.

One thing that is always on: One thing that is always on my mind, when I read any piece of literature about thinkers and scientists of pre-industrial times (whether it a poem such as yours, a historical book, etc.), is how much their historical fame has to do with scarcity of education and a much smaller population. Was a guy like Conon, for example, someone who would be just another white coat in a lab in today's world? I can't exactly say why this crosses my mind so often, but it certainly does :) What ever the answer, I enjoyed your write :)

Every time you post a new: Every time you post a new poem, the posting is an event of great excitement.  This poem is very Stevensian:  the gulls answers to the pigeons that sink "downward to darkness on extended wings" at the end of the great Sunday Morning; the laboring sea answers to the sea in his poems, "Sea Surface Full Of Clouds" and The Idea Of Order At Key West; and your last four lines reminds me so much of his late, and very poignant poem, "The Planet On The Table."  This is not to suggest any kind of slavish copying; rather, it is an artistic resonance in which one great Poet replies, even without intending to, to another great Poet.  That your poetic mind alludes---whether intentionally or not---to Stevens' work just raises my estimation of your greatness to an even higher degree,  And this is how the Western Canon works, according to T. S. Eliot:  your poem fits right in with Stevens' poems (and, I am sure, with other great Poets' poems), and then modifies itself, and the other Poets' poems, into a new combination.  And having mentioned Eliot, I re-read your poem as I was writing this, and I began to notice correspondences to the Four Quartets:  the presence of time, the sea, the birds, the end, the being deconstructed, and the vision of perfection apprehended at the conclusion.  How one Poet can compose an original poem, and answer both Stevens and Eliot, is beyond my knowledge but it is proof, once again, of your greatness and the breadth of your talent.  Your talent is like a high mountain, and your verbal constructions, taien as one whole, is the observatory built upon that mountain, the better to give us a superlative view of the stars.  I applaud your greatness, and I gladly declare here in this comment.  

I'm overjoyed that you: I'm overjoyed that you stopped by and took the time to read and leave such a beautiful, inspiring comment. Every blessing to you. 

No problem, at all. A very: No problem, at all. A very 'warm' take that I thoroughly enjoyed : )