The rustling of silk

Imagism is a literary movement that has fascinated me for a long time and eventually at some point in time, I always go back to explore it a little more and remember again some of my favourite poems and poets.

I still own the same copy of a university text book on the subject that I bought with borrowed money twelve years ago. It’s well-thumbed with loose pages and scribbled notes in the margins and it tends to live in drawer next to my bed. Liu Ch’e by Ezra Pound has always been a particular favourite. Sometimes less says more.

What’s worse than sciatica and excruciating low back pain? Obviously, a bad migraine headache on top of it. I’m stuck in a pain-drenched sleep deprived state that demands that I stay dead still in a dark quiet room until sleep returns. And all I can think about today is rain, a cabin in the woods and Ezra Pound’s poetry.

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