The seas of pity lie/ Locked and frozen in each eye//

foreplay for love


If wild my breast and sore my pride
I bask in dreams of suicide
If cool my heart and high my head
I think, “How lucky are the dead.”


— Dorothy Parker

Dorothy Parker and Alan Campbell at their farmhouse in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, 1937
Dorothy Parker was very famous in the interwar years for her talent with words. She had, it is said, a stinging repartee and the ability to churn out — at high velocity — endlessly quotable one-liners.
Dorothy Parker
Beneath Dorothy Parker’s sharp wit and acidic humour, was a writer who expressed well the deep vulnerability of a troubled, self-destructive soul who, in the words of philosopher Irwin Edman, was “a Sappho who could combine a heartbreak with a wisecrack.”

Susanna Kaysen (1994, p. 48) writes in her memoir, “our hospital was famous and had housed many great poets and singers. Did the hospital specialise in poets, or was it that poets specialised in madness?” Kaysen went on to ponder, “what is it about meter and cadence and rhythm that makes their makers mad?”


A book should serve as the ax for the frozen sea within us.

Kafka wrote,
Sexton quoted,
Auden would’ve approved.


REFERENCES

Kaysen, S. (1993). Girl, interrupted. Private Idaho: Turtle Bay Books.

Parker, D. (2001). The Collected Dorothy Parker. London: Penguin Classics.

Author: Anna Bidoonism

You'll find poems, prose & literary analysis on my blog -- this is who I am.

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