Thank you so much for that: Thank you so much for that comment. I only just recently found the translations of Red Pine, and I must admit to an embarrassing lack of familiarity with Chinese Poetry. But I do love his beautiful translations which I read online. Decades ago, during my second and third years at college, I took two courses on East Asian history; which focused on China, primarily. Although I did poorly, C minus in both, I am glad to have some exposure to that culture. Thanks again for the comment.
Thank you for that comment,: Thank you for that comment, and thanks for the humor in it. And no, the title of the second film is not remembered; nor the title of the first, or of the cartoons.
One of your most ambitious: One of your most ambitious projects because the wordscaping would have to be consistent with the breathtaking prowess and lofty vision of Taoist adepts spanning over two thousand years. What a high bar Red Pine set for you to scale!
But you, not being one to shy away from a challenge, reached high and fashioned a tribute to the translator in a voice that parallels the ancient refined diction he made accessible to modern readers.
Only a pro could pull it off. A picturesque and fine-tailored nod to a great scholar and translator.
Savvy use of sensory detail: Savvy use of sensory detail brings the unseen into the mind's eye in your vintage, Ad Astra style. Two words ("playful success") complete the expedition that changes everything for the rest of the speaker's life.
I suppose it goes without saying that he doesn't remember the title of that second film.
You're welcome - I always: You're welcome - I always enjoy conversing about the seeming little things that are big in some corner of the map. They are part of what makes our lives unique, but also feeds the conversation that intertwines them. Great camp fire material, as well ; )
Thanks for the head start with Sarban's work. I'll check out the link you sent me. Greatly appreciated!
Thank you for the reply, and: Thank you for the reply, and for the information about the relics found at Red House. I do appreciate your willingness to follow up. As for Sarban, I began with his collection of short stories, Ringstones. The tale in that collection to start with is called "A Christmas Story." It happens to be online as well, and I am sending you the link by PM. Then I would recommend Sarban's alternate history novella, The Sound Of His Horn---which depicts a corner of the Third Reich, a century or so after Adolf Hitler.
A mythological watering hole: What a dreamscape your mind created for and with the giants. Deeply contemplative, and as stories of mythology and the giants typically do, one that really speaks about a story of us humans.
You're welcome - my pleasure, as ever: While nothing exotic or startling was found at the site, but numerous items from the time (I recall pans, candlestick holders, dishes) - items that would probably be far more exciting to find if it were a thousand years down the road and all of these cultural items were by gone or completely different (I suppose the candlestick holders might already qualify), but none the less cool to uncover. The documentarian also found some of the structure, I believe the most evident being parts of the chimney/hearth.
You did a fine job in your tribute, and just the same your piece stands on it's own. I do love Shirley Jackson's writing style, and have enjoyed some talented voices retelling Haunting of Hill House. Turn of the Screw is also a fine work, and probably contains one of the best Horror titles created. I am unfamiliar with Sarban - which of his related works would you recommend as a start?
Thank you. You have piqued: Thank you. You have piqued my curiosity: what kind of artifacts were found on that site?
The house I described in this poem actually exists on a high ridge above the interstate highway that I have traveled, from time to time, to visit my old college. Several times, my daughter, then a teenager, accompanied me in the evenings, and when we passed that house both of us found it disturbing. Once, and just one, we saw one window illuminated, but, on all other times it was entirely dark. Neither of us cared to find out more about it.
In writing about it, I am well aware that Shirley Jackson's Haunting Of Hill House is still the final word, in prose, on desciptions of haunted houses; with, in my opinion, a very close second being Bly House in Henry James' tale, Turn Of The Screw. And the horror writer Sarban (mentioned in the poem's dedication) was very good about describing haunted landscapes. So I thought I would try my own in a poem.
Thank you so much for visiting the poem, and commenting.
George, how much do you think: George, how much do you think people are driven by the mistaken notion of one day getting more, versus the primal drive of wanting to win (even if they the "win" is nothing more than bragging rights on the way to a shared demise)?
Precision: I have no idea if there's only one place like that in the world, but I am quite confident that there is only one case in which such a gritty stop has been so poetically described. It's hard to believe your dart didn't hit dead center in capturing the mood.