Vocab via Bishop

equinoctial – adj. 1. Pertaining to a state of equal day and night. equinoctial line, circle (in Milton equinoctial road), the celestial or terrestrial equator. Cf. B. 1 and 2. equinoctial point = Equinox (duh)divagation – noun.The action of divagating; a wandering or straying away or about: deviation; digression. macadamize – verb. 1. a. trans. Originally: to make or repair (a road) according to McAdam’s method. In modern use: to cover (an unmade road, etc.) with tarmacadam. b. trans. fig. To make (a way, etc.) level, even, or smooth; to raze. Now rare. Perh. Obs. diaphanous – adj.Permitting the free…

Vocab via Bishop

equinoctial – adj. 1. Pertaining to a state of equal day and night. equinoctial line, circle (in Milton equinoctial road), the celestial or terrestrial equator. Cf. B. 1 and 2. equinoctial point = Equinox (duh)divagation – noun.The action of divagating; a wandering or straying away or about: deviation; digression. macadamize – verb. 1. a. trans. Originally: to make or repair (a road) according to McAdam’s method. In modern use: to cover (an unmade road, etc.) with tarmacadam. b. trans. fig. To make (a way, etc.) level, even, or smooth; to raze. Now rare. Perh. Obs. diaphanous – adj.Permitting the free…

Elizabeth Bishop

My favorite poems by the ever-graceful Elizabeth Bishop. Anaphoraby Elizabeth Bishop Each day with so much ceremonybegins, with birds, with bells,with whistles from a factory;such white-gold skies our eyesfirst open on, such brilliant wallsthat for a moment we wonder“Where is the music coming from, the energy?The day was meant for what ineffable creaturewe must have missed?” Oh promptly heappears and takes his earthly natureinstantly, instantly fallsvictim of long intrigue,assuming memory and mortalmortal fatigue. More slowly falling into sightand showering into stippled faces,darkening, condensing all his light;in spite of all the dreamingsquandered upon him with that look,suffers our uses and abuses,sinks…

Elizabeth Bishop

My favorite poems by the ever-graceful Elizabeth Bishop. Anaphoraby Elizabeth Bishop Each day with so much ceremonybegins, with birds, with bells,with whistles from a factory;such white-gold skies our eyesfirst open on, such brilliant wallsthat for a moment we wonder“Where is the music coming from, the energy?The day was meant for what ineffable creaturewe must have missed?” Oh promptly heappears and takes his earthly natureinstantly, instantly fallsvictim of long intrigue,assuming memory and mortalmortal fatigue. More slowly falling into sightand showering into stippled faces,darkening, condensing all his light;in spite of all the dreamingsquandered upon him with that look,suffers our uses and abuses,sinks…