peter, if you remember an email wrote a whole moon back, it was filled with Arcadian investigations. tracing the way from the old man virgil thru milton, marvell and all our boys. where will the poet's pastoral obsession end? We city-dwellers idealising, making an Arcady from the backstreet bedroom that reeks of urbanity. is the interest there in the gap forged between creator and creation. we have to cross the gap, from alley to valley, but we can't reach our idyll becuase its very expression is unreal. here shade takes on its role as the attainable, 'sit with me under the shady bough', where we are enjoying the idyll via projection. sitting under the shade we never have to see the oak giving it, sitting there our Arcady remains alive in imagination.
what do you think?
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