Reading Myself, First poem of new semester!

Reading Myself

Like thousands, I took just pride and more than just,

struck matches that brought my blood to a boil;
I memorized the tricks to set the river on fire-
somehow never wrote something to go back to.

From the title the reader can assume that this poem is about Lowell looking back on his life. He is proud of his accomplishment. The way I interpret the "striking matches" bit is personal. As soon as I read this line I thought of grinding my 86a stimulus wheels across the pavement on my loaded longboard. There is nothing better to get my blood boiling than that. Lowell did things that he enjoyed to a great extent. "The river" is his blood streak and he became an expert in the techniques it took to make his blood boil. Just as I know the right amount of pressure to add to my left foot to slide out. The last line is a favorite of mine. After winter I go back to longboarding and have to somewhat re-learn all of my techniques, and I think to myself, "if only I had written them down."

Can I suppose I am finished with wax flowers
and have earned my grass on the minor slopes of Parnassus....

Waxed flowers are flowers that are coated in a wax to preserve its color and living look. I can only assume Lowell is implying that his is finished bringing to attention his better times in life and making them stand out to the Gods and Goddesses of the Greek mountain Parnassus and is hoping for a positive judgment.

No honeycomb is built without a bee
adding circle to circle, cell to cell,
the wax and honey of a mausoleum-
this round dome proves its maker is alive,
the corpse of the insect lives embalmed in honey,
prays that its perishable work live long

Mother Earth gives to us until finally we must give back. I somewhat believe more in being buried than cremation for this reason. Once someone has passed away and taken all they can from the earth, they are buried within it, giving back for all they have taken. Every bee must work, every human must as well. The corpse of the bee is eventually embalmed with home where it's corpse continues to give to the honeycomb.


enough for the sweet-toogh bear to desecrate-
this open book...my open coffin.

The honeycomb, that the worker bees gave their entire life to, will be eaten or used by other animals/humans, eventually. The way I can connect this to humans is that every door we open for ourselves, every accomplishment we make, creates a new possibility for the generation behind us. The advances humans make now will effect, and hopefully improve, the lives that come after we pass. I hope.
                                  By Robert Lowell

                                                    The holy Mountain Parnassus in Greece

        -Waxed flowers that preserve the color and the living look of a flower. I especially like this picture because of the glass cases they are in, showing off the beauty to viewers as Lowell's accomplishments are shown off to the Gods of Parnassus.