A reader of the last edition’s poem (sorry for the one-week delay) commented anonymously that what Mary Oliver was sensing in herself, in the guise of the bear, was something wild and uncontrollable, a madness that manifests itself particularly in the early spring. The commenter–who will not be named–also noted that genocide remembrance days are in April, and that every historical genocide has an April touchstone date. So I’m sure no attentive reader will possibly guess who the commenter, whose identity is withheld to protect the guilty, was.
The commenter did not, however, justify the poem’s existence, and Mary Oliver herself has not chimed in, so since it’s been 2 weeks I can assume that we, as a group, hereby express our disdain and distaste for last edition’s poem, and label it a piece of poo. Bear poo.
And lest you think that’s crazy, well, I have an excuse, because we all get a little madness in the spring. Just like good ol’ Emily D., who here suggests that a little goes a long way. Stay sane,
A LITTLE MADNESS IN THE SPRING
A little Madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King,
But God be with the Clown –
Who ponders this tremendous scene –
This whole Experiment of Green –
As if it were his own!