Thursday, June 08, 2017

That's for sure …

Marianne Moore was a singular voice. (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)
There is no one quite like her, no one to whom she could be compared, such is her rootedness in her own hugely eccentric and wilful Moore-ishness. Her poems are finically, even excessively observant, and scrupulously formally structured, with, on occasion, the most improbably outrageous of end-rhymes. She had a passion for animals, birds, flowers and insects. Her painstaking descriptions of the odd characteristics of such creatures (she had a great fondness for compound adjectives) cause her poems to read at times like high-literary glosses on David Attenborough’s “Planet Earth” decades before its time.

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