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Classic and Contemporary Poetry


LETTERS TO YESENIN: 27 by JAMES HARRISON

Poet Analysis

First Line: I WON MY WINGS! I GOT ALL A'S! WE BOUGHT FRESH FRUIT! THE TOILET
Last Line: BEFORE THOSE FINAL MINUTES YOU DIDN'T FIND OUT SOMETHING NEW.
Subject(s): DEATH; YESENIN, SERGEI (1895-1925); DEAD, THE;

I won my wings! I got all A's! We bought fresh fruit! The toilet broke! Thus
my life draws fuel ineluctably from triumph. Manic, rainy June slides into July
and I am carefully dressing myself in primary colors for happiness. When the
summer solstice has passed you know you're finally safe again. That midnight
surely dates the year. "Look to your romantic interests and business
investments," says the star hack in the newspapers. But what if you have
neither? Millions will be up to nothing. One of those pure empty days with all
the presence of a hole in the ground. The stars have stolen twenty-four hours
and vengeance is out of the question. But I'm a three-peckered purple goat if
you were tied to any planet by your cord. That is mischief, an inferior magic;
pulling the lining out of a top hat. You merely rolled on the ground moaning
trying to pull that mask off but it had grown into your face. "Such a price the
gods exact for song to become what we sing," said someone. If it aches that
badly you have to take the head off, narrow the neck to a third its normal size,
a practice known as hanging by gift of the state or as a do-it-yourself project.
But what I wonder about is your velocity: ten years from Ryazan to Leningrad.
A little more than a decade, two years into your fifth seven and on out like a
proton in an accelerator. You simply fell off the edge of the world while most
of us are given circles or, hopefully, spirals. The new territory had a wall
which you went over and on the other side there was something we weren't
permitted to see. Everyone suspects it's nothing. Time will tell. But how you
preyed on, longed for, those first ten years. We'll have to refuse that,
however its freshness in your hands. Romantic. Fatal. We learn to see with
the child's delight again or perish. We hope it was your vision you lost, that
before those final minutes you didn't find out something new.



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