Without the power to die

Photograph — Alex Waterhouse-Hayward

My Nuyorican writer friend Jerome Charyn has just written A Loaded Gun: Emily Dickinson For The 21st Century in the heels of a lovely autobiographical novel The Secret Life of Emily Dickinson. It seems that his latest book was inspired by this particular Dickinson poem:

My Life had stood — a Loaded Gun -

In Corners — till a Day

The Owner passed — identified -

And carried Me away -

And now We roam in Sovreign Woods -

And now We hunt the Doe -

And every time I speak for Him

The Mountains straight reply -

And do I smile, such cordial light

Opon the Valley glow -

It is as a Vesuvian face

Had let it’s pleasure through -

And when at Night — Our good Day done -

I guard My Master’s Head -

’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s

Deep Pillow — to have shared -

To foe of His — I’m deadly foe -

None stir the second time -

On whom I lay a Yellow Eye -

Or an emphatic Thumb -

Though I than He — may longer live

He longer must — than I -

For I have but the power to kill,

Without — the power to die -

I have yet to read this book. I am ordering it from my Vancouver Public Library.

I was intrigued by those last two lines:

For I have the power to kill,
Without the power to die

That justifies my photograph of Katheryn as a vampire.

Lessons on the piny

Ample make this bed
How happy is the little stone
Sleep is supposed to be
The shutting of the eye
I dwell in possibility
when Sappho was a living girl
In a library
A light exists in spring
The lady dare not lift her veil
I took my power in my hand
I find my feet have further goals
I cannot dance upon my toes
The Music of the Violin does not emerge alone
Red Blaze
He touched me, so I live to know
Rear Window- The Entering Takes Away
Said Death to Passion
We Wear the Mask That Grins And Lies
It was not death for I stood alone
The Music in the Violin Does Not Emerge Alone
I tend my flowers for thee
Lavinia Norcross Dickinson
Pray gather me anemone!
Ample make her bed
His caravan of red
Me-come! My dazzled face
Develops pearl and weed
But peers beyond her mesh
Surgeons must be very careful
Water is taught by thirst
I could not prove that years had feet
April played her fiddle
A violin in Baize replaced
I think the longest hour
The spirit lasts
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Link to: Without the power to die

Originally published at blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com.

Into Bunny Watson. I am a Vancouver-based magazine photographer/writer. I have a popular daily blog which can be found at:http://t.co/yf6BbOIQ alexwh@telus.net

Into Bunny Watson. I am a Vancouver-based magazine photographer/writer. I have a popular daily blog which can be found at:http://t.co/yf6BbOIQ alexwh@telus.net