Last week I craned over glass cases at the Drawing Center on Wooster Street, examining the pencil script of Emily Dickinson creeping across scraps of envelopes, telegrams, and other bits of paper. I had never seen her handwriting before. I almost felt as if I were peering into the poet’s face, scanning her pores, and a few times averted my eyes in respect and some confusion. Did I have the right? What would she think of having her spontaneous drafts exposed for examination? The exhibit is closed now but I keep adding to it in my mind as I sit with the collected poems at night, re-reading, discovering.

Here is a link to exhibit specimens:

Here are two lines walking with me everywhere:

Then Sunrise kissed my Chrysalis–

And I stood up–and lived–

Emily Dickinson (#598, 1862)


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s