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Astonishing drafts from poetry's most famous recluse

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Author: benwdalton

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XXI. Not in This World to See His Face
Horrible Death

XXI. Not in This World to See His Face

July 25, 2017July 23, 2017 benwdaltonLeave a comment

…sounds long, but wait until you hear this…

XX. The Last Night That She Lived
The Single Hound

XX. The Last Night That She Lived

July 23, 2017 benwdaltonLeave a comment

…it was a common night, except for the ghosts…

XVIII. There Is A Silly Goofiness
The Single Hound

XVIII. There Is A Silly Goofiness

July 15, 2017July 15, 2017 benwdaltonAsideLeave a comment

XVIII.

There is a silly Goofiness
That many die without,
Not feeling great that moment,
’Cause dying sucks a lot.

But nature sometimes, sometimes thought,
That whoso it befall
Laughs more than could be divulged
By banal folderol.

 

—

Dickinson’s final draft.

XIX. Of All The Souls That Stand Create
Love

XIX. Of All The Souls That Stand Create

July 8, 2017July 7, 2017 benwdalton1 Comment

I screwed up.

XIX. To Know Just How She Suffered Would Be Dear
Horrible Death

XIX. To Know Just How She Suffered Would Be Dear

July 7, 2017July 7, 2017 benwdaltonLeave a comment

She really deserved it.

XVIII. God Permits Industrious Basilisks
Horrible Death

XVIII. God Permits Industrious Basilisks

July 5, 2017July 5, 2017 benwdaltonLeave a comment

…afternoons to play…

XIX. I Started Early, Took My Dog
Nature

XIX. I Started Early, Took My Dog

July 2, 2017July 2, 2017 benwdaltonLeave a comment

…and visited my tub…

XVIII. Two Butterflies Went Out At Noon
Nature

XVIII. Two Butterflies Went Out At Noon

July 1, 2017July 1, 2017 benwdaltonLeave a comment

…and waltzed into a thrift…

Birch forest in winter on a mountain XVII. Who Robed the Woods?
Nature

XVII. Who Robed the Woods?

June 20, 2017June 16, 2017 benwdaltonAsideLeave a comment

XVII.

Who robed the woods,
The happy woods?
The frolicksome trees
Had shed their flowers and leaves
Their fantasies to please.
I scanned their bits, offended,
I threw them burrs and moss.
Thus the solemn hemlock stood;
Thus was fir-tree’s loss.

 

—

Her final draft (with interpretation), which was also amusing.

XVIII. Come Slowly, Penis!
Love

XVIII. Come Slowly, Penis!

June 17, 2017June 16, 2017 benwdaltonLeave a comment

…lips unused to thee…

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