He shudders—feeling on the shaven spot The probing wind, that stabs him to a thought Of storm-drenched fields in a white foam of light, And roads of his hill-town that leap to sight Like threads of tortured silver.
Yes, her life story is a series of unlikely events - it's amazing. She was married to a Kiwi and gave her 7 year old son to an orphanage upon moving to the US in order to pursue her political and artistic interests.
She was also beaten by police in a public square while protesting a double execution. Seriously a character of humanity.
So wonderful to see Lola Ridge getting some attention! Love her work so much. Her low opinion of police makes a lot of sense given her anarchist leanings. :-) She actually lived in New Zealand, where I am based, for a short time, and published some of her earliest poems here, which I was really excited to learn. Here's one of my favs:
.
Skyscrapers
.
Skyscrapers . . . remote, unpartisan . . .
Turning neither to the right nor left
Your imperturbable fronts . . .
Austerely greeting the sun
With one chilly finger of stone . . .
I know your secrets . . . better than all the policemen
Yes, her life story is a series of unlikely events - it's amazing. She was married to a Kiwi and gave her 7 year old son to an orphanage upon moving to the US in order to pursue her political and artistic interests.
She was also beaten by police in a public square while protesting a double execution. Seriously a character of humanity.
Wow - amazing stuff. Yeah, that's a great way of putting it, "a character of humanity." Love that.
So wonderful to see Lola Ridge getting some attention! Love her work so much. Her low opinion of police makes a lot of sense given her anarchist leanings. :-) She actually lived in New Zealand, where I am based, for a short time, and published some of her earliest poems here, which I was really excited to learn. Here's one of my favs:
.
Skyscrapers
.
Skyscrapers . . . remote, unpartisan . . .
Turning neither to the right nor left
Your imperturbable fronts . . .
Austerely greeting the sun
With one chilly finger of stone . . .
I know your secrets . . . better than all the policemen
like fat blue mullet along the avenue.
.