Lucky Words

This was recorded on a super windy day in Moab. I didn't realize just how much it had affected the recording until I tried to listen to it at home. I tried to make it listenable in Audacity and GarageBand, and even still it sounds pretty lousy.

Which is really too bad, because the poem is great and the locale was spectacular. There are few things more pleasant than sitting on warm slickrock when the day turns cool and breezy. There's such a lovely radiant heat from the stone.

What I didn't actually get to in my analysis is a discussion of the word "circuit." What Dickinson means here is not a circuit in the electronic sense, but in a circular sense. That second line means that success comes from taking the long, perhaps meandering path. Don't just spit out the truth, but draw it out slowly, deliberately, intentionally.

Part of what's fun about this poem is that it is so short. In contrast with her message, this poem just kind of dumps it out in just 41 words. There's not much circuit here, not much "gradually" -- and yet it dazzles.

### TEXT OF POEM

"Tell all the truth but tell it slant" by Emily Dickinson

Tell all the truth but tell it slant —

Success in Circuit lies

Too bright for our infirm Delight

The Truth's superb surprise

As Lightning to the Children eased

With explanation kind

The Truth must dazzle gradually

Or every man be blind —

Today's poem, perfectly titled for a beautiful day in April, is a pretty tough one for me. Even now, listening to what I said when I recorded, I'm only half-convinced of my interpretation. I have noticed some new stuff, that I would include if I could. But the recording is not a historical event, captured in this one-take.

I did do a little editing in this recording, though. A good chunk is me getting distracted by birds, and it's boring to listen to me watching. The birds were too quiet to hear well, and it just isn't that compelling to listen to birdwatching. It isn't compelling for me, and I'm the one who was doing it. So I edited that out.

I also edited out three or four false starts on my interpretation. Between my readings of the poem, I gave some exegesis, and then some better, and then different from before. I left in only the last one, because it is the most detailed.

My reading of it isn't informed by any research from Millay experts (which I am not), but only my own skills as a reader. Do you see something different, something that is supported by the text? Then you've got some skills, too. Well done, friend.

This was recorded at Arches National Park a while back, on a cold, cold morning. It was a great time to read this wonderful Mary Oliver poem about mornings (and happiness and goodness).

I apologize that the sound quality on this is so lousy. I am clearly no professional sound engineer, and there is all sorts of clipping and sound that's blown out by the wind and my poor mic skills. I did what I could to fix it, but frankly, I'm just guessing here.

One of my favorite things about recording these on outdoor excusrions is that the sound, for me at least, evokes a powerful memory of the place. I get more ambiance than with just a photo. Does it evoke for you, too? And these places, being there or just remembering being there, helps me live in happiness, in kindness. I hope it inspires joy for you, too.

Squelchy, snowy hike up the Big Springs trail on a day that couldn't decide what weather felt right. There's a particular beauty in being in a monochromatic landscape like this; it makes me feel small and vulnerable.

I've spent much too much time indoors this winter, and I feel more out of shape than I ever have before. I get out of breath more quickly, and the muscles on my legs are less defined than ever beore. It'll take some work this spring and summer to get back to where I was. A poem about middle age seems appropriate right now.

It's a new year, and a new season of Lucky Words. Or, rather, it's a new season! Of Lucky Words! I'm back! And I'm glad you're back, too. I've missed you; I hope you've missed me, too.

It is almost National Poetry Month again, and so it's time to fire up the old recorder and get out hiking. Spring is springing (slowly), and it is a perfect time to be outdoors.

This was recorded sitting in my car at a trailhead in Moab, Utah. Something was a little wonky with the recorder (although it is probably more likely to be user error), so it sounds blown-out in parts when I get too enthusiastic. It’s easy to be enthusiastic about Billy Collins. Some of you have already heard the story about how he convinced me to buy a new car.

This is a great poem, and it is good to be enthusiastic about.

There is a lot more that could be said about sonnet 20, but this should serve as a nice introduction to this one, especially for you listeners who are not regular readers of Shakespeare's sonnets. This is one of the crazy ones, or at least one of the difficult-to-categorize-Shakesepeare's-sexuality ones. 

I recorded this while out birding one morning (yes, I am a middle aged white male: so what?) and I had to edit out probably three or four planes landing or taking off. Not exactly the quietest place to record. I tried to get rid of them all while recording, but I'm obviously not a professional audio engineer, who would have made me do a few sentences over from scratch. But that would of course require that I worked form a script, which is pretty obviously not the case if you've listened to an episode or two. 

For the text of the poem, or more things to read, come on over to visit at jeffreywindsor.net.

It's a lunchtime post -- or, rather, it's a lunchtime recording. I took a hike at lunchtime and recorded while I was hiking (literally, which is why my breathing is a little more apparent than usual) right before I stopped to eat. 

Today's poem is one that has been my favorite since about 1990, when I first read the poem. I was living in Brazil at the time as a Mormon missionary, and a girl sent this poem to me in a letter. I've never forgotten the poem (although shortly thereafter the girl forgot me and married someone else. It all worked out in the end: I married Kate) and think about it often. For such a simple, little narrative poem it packs a long, thought-provoking tail.

For more, as always, go to jeffreywindsor.net" class="linkified" target="_blank">http://www.jeffreywindsor.net">jeffreywindsor.net;

For the second of our look together at some of Shakespeare's sonnets, today's selection is the most famous: sonnet 18, the famous "Shall I comapre thee to a summer's day?" The only sonnet that rivals it in popular consciousness is Elizabeth Barrett Browning's "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways." I approach this with a little reticence, since it's such well-trod territory, but it helps to fill in the whole narrative that I will be explaining as time goes on. So I press on and am posting it anyway. Don't like my interpretation? Let me know.

I recorded this on the most beautiful day of the whole year so far. Surely there will be nicer days in the future, but today is the finest since before winter began months ago. It is a perfect day to read about summer's days, even though it's just spring.

As always, there's more for you to read at http://jeffreywindsor.net" class="linkified" target="_blank">http://jeffreywindsor.net">http://jeffreywindsor.net;

For Easter, a discussion of George Herbert's "Easter Wings." Recorded while out on a hike on a beautiful afternoon in the foothills under Mt. Timpanogos in beautiful Utah.

Text of this poem (and all the other episodes of Lucky Words) are available at jeffreywindsor.net.