Landscape and Poetry: The Vanishing Self

Abstract

There are questions that have haunted me for a long time about poetry, what it allows one to remember and what it makes one forget; about history that can bind us to the shared world often in quite difficult ways about the poem and how it enters into but also stands apart from the world. And about the self, insofar as we can speak of the constantly elusive subjectivity that allows us to live and move and have our being in this shared world. And what of landscape? I think of the rocks and stones and trees, the sky and circling clouds in this lovely mountainous place where we are gathered together