...on my Norman Finkelstein essay, after a bad night--woke up, sat up, and pouf! There it was: the structure that would let me talk about all of the topics and poems I've thrashed out and worried over for the last week or so.
Have I ever mentioned that I love it when that happens?
So--now I can get back to other things, like my Reading Poetry and Teaching Poetry classes, while the piece more or less writes itself. Yeah, right. But it will be easier, and I can stop griping, which will be fun for everyone.
Two unrelated notes:
1) I've spent a lot of time over at the other blog recently, thinking through some issues about "secular Jewish culture" and its intersections, such as they are, with something called "radical poetry." If you're interested in either side of that equation, you might check it out.
2) I also received, a few days back, the most gorgeous, but gorgeous chapbook I think I've ever seen: Peter O'Leary's A Mystical Theology of the Limbic Fissure, from Dos Madres press. I'll post more on the poems in the next few days; a little Catholic poesy for diversion during my ongoing sojourn through Reb Finkelstein. For the moment, though, let me just say that the icons and little graphic touches throughout this book are like ocular baklava. I knew Dos Madres did good work; in fact, Finkelstein has his own Dos Madres chapbook, An Assembly, which inspired me to write on him when I re-read it this spring. But my goodness--they've outdone themselves this time.
Hats off to Robert J. Murphy, executive editor of Dos Madres. We who are about to read salute you!
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