Still musing about Juliana Spahr.
Because someone steps forward. Lyric breaks out of description, out of dialogue, conflict even, Lyric brings a voice to the front of the poem and peers into the dustiest soul.
Sometimes in a poem you find a poet, notebook in hand, thinking.
Lastly, a note on various social occasions by one V.Woolf.
Mrs. Manresa half-way down the Barn had gulped her cup of tea. How can I rid myself, she asked, of Mrs. Parker? If they were of her own class, how they bored her—her own sex! Not the class below— cooks, shopkeepers, farmers’ wives; nor the class above—peeresses, countesses; it was the women of her own class that bored her. So she left Mrs. Parker, abruptly.So little time, so much social anxiety.
--Between The Acts