Calvin, Hobbes, and Pale Fire: A Cartoon as Poetry / Poetry as a Cartoon

I was the shadow of the waxwing slain
By the false azure in the windowpane;
I was the smudge of ashen fluff—and I
Lived on, flew on, in the reflected sky.
And from the inside, too, I’d duplicate
Myself, my lamp, an apple on a plate:
Uncurtaining the night, I’d let dark glass
Hang all the furniture above the grass,
And how delightful when a fall of snow
Covered my glimpse of lawn and reached up so
As to make chair and bed exactly stand
Upon that snow, out in that crystal land!

“Pale Fire,” the Poem: Does It Stand Alone as a Masterpiece? : The New Yorker [The full text of Pale Fire is here.]

Posted by gerardvanderleun at October 6, 2013 4:41 AM