11.06.2005

I'm on a Marlowe kick right now. I'm looking at the Tamburlaines, Massacre at Paris, Dido Queen of Carthage and Edward II, et al. Ever since I was in high school, I've always been fascinated by the lush, visceral, almost too-forceful verse Marlowe practically invented. If Shakespeare is the Sistine Chapel, Marlowe is El Greco or Goya. All weekend I've been spending the lion's share of my days curled up with my Marlowe omnibus, sipping cold tea, practically conspiring with these murderers as they plot the bloody deaths of kings and cardinals.

To break any incipient stagnation, I went for a run today in the horse pastures outside of Boise. The sky was broken, the daylight pale and limpid. Pairs of dogs loudly paced their grounds as I trotted past, not exactly spoiling for a fight but not shrinking from it, neither.

I kept coming to these desolate crossroads, mud and broken asphalt affairs dark and fresh from the rain, whose roads run straight along the compass lines as far as you can see. The emptiness, the chill of this season swiftly sweeping past me, the snow limning the mountains that could almost be clouds, so far away are my horizons--all of these things curiously and strangely warm me even as my ears redden and my fingers quiver. I can almost watch myself as I round the corners and plod past the staring horses, a speck of color on a black line in an empty landscape of fields, lightly speckled with farmhouses and the hesitating rain.

"Fair is too foul an epithet for thee...

With hair dishevell'd wip'st thy watery cheeks,

And, like to Flora in her morning's pride,

Shaking her silver tresses in the air,

Rain'st on the earth resolved pearl in showers

And sprinklest sapphires on thy shining face"

More as time and circumstance permit. Good night, and good luck.

paul-spudmonster


3 comments:

Anonymous said...

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sirbarrett said...

Beautiful stuff. Such vast landscapes you have. It reminded me of All the Pretty Horses plus the snow-capped mountains. I'm jealous that you're indulging good books. Marlowe can take you deep into fantasy. He, like Shakespeare, really made the words of his characters express their personalities. My comment is supposed to be full of sexual imagery and innuendo, but somehow I failed. Sorry. I guess I don't have anything to sell you.

Anonymous said...

Marlowe was a fine poet, but less than half the dramatist Shakespeare was; a great innovator, but not the master of the form. No one knows what he might have become, alas.