Without the power to die

My Nuyorican writer friend Jerome Charyn has just written A Loaded Gun: Emily Dickinson For The 21st Century in the heels of a lovely autobiographical novel The Secret Life of Emily Dickinson. It seems that his latest book was inspired by this particular Dickinson poem:

My Life had stood — a Loaded Gun -

In Corners — till a Day

The Owner passed — identified -

And carried Me away -

And now We roam in Sovreign Woods -

And now We hunt the Doe -

And every time I speak for Him

The Mountains straight reply -

And do I smile, such cordial light

Opon the Valley glow -

It is as a Vesuvian face

Had let it’s pleasure through -

And when at Night — Our good Day done -

I guard My Master’s Head -

’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s

Deep Pillow — to have shared -

To foe of His — I’m deadly foe -

None stir the second time -

On whom I lay a Yellow Eye -

Or an emphatic Thumb -

Though I than He — may longer live

He longer must — than I -

For I have but the power to kill,

Without — the power to die -
 
 I have yet to read this book. I am ordering it from my Vancouver Public Library.
 
 I was intrigued by those last two lines:
 
 For I have the power to kill,
 Without the power to die
 
 That justifies my photograph of Katheryn as a vampire.
 
 Lessons on the piny

Ample make this bed
 How happy is the little stone
 Sleep is supposed to be
 The shutting of the eye
 I dwell in possibility
when Sappho was a living girl
 In a library
 A light exists in spring
 The lady dare not lift her veil
 I took my power in my hand
 I find my feet have further goals
 I cannot dance upon my toes
 The Music of the Violin does not emerge alone
 Red Blaze
 He touched me, so I live to know
 Rear Window- The Entering Takes Away
 Said Death to Passion
 We Wear the Mask That Grins And Lies
 It was not death for I stood alone
 The Music in the Violin Does Not Emerge Alone
 I tend my flowers for thee
Lavinia Norcross Dickinson
Pray gather me anemone!
Ample make her bed 
His caravan of red
Me-come! My dazzled face 
Develops pearl and weed
But peers beyond her mesh
Surgeons must be very careful
Water is taught by thirst
I could not prove that years had feet
April played her fiddle
A violin in Baize replaced
I think the longest hour
The spirit lasts
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2014/03/i-left-them-in-ground-emily-dickinson.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2014/01/i-felt-my-life-with-both-my-hands.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/03/currer-bell-emily-dickinson-charlotte.html
 http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/03/and-zero-at-bone-with-dirks-of-melody.html 
 http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/05/charm-invests-her-face.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/tell-truth-but-tell-it-slant.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/theres-certain-slant-of-light.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/then-mashes-it-to-death.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/adjusted-to-tomb.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/i-could-not-see-to-see.html
 http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/blonde-assasin-passes-on.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/12/dirk-commemorate-itself.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/12/lawful-as-equilibrium.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/12/there-is-no-frigate-like-book.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/12/light-is-sufficient-to-itself.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2012/11/thanatos-two-tiny-rhododendrons.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2012/12/you-almost-bathed-your-tongue.html

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