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	<title>Comments on: Henighan&#8217;s shallow grave.</title>
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	<link>http://annestone.net/2007/10/07/henighans-shallow-grave/</link>
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		<title>By: admin</title>
		<link>http://annestone.net/2007/10/07/henighans-shallow-grave/comment-page-1/#comment-21</link>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Tue, 09 Oct 2007 20:58:41 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://annestone.net/lately/2007/10/07/henighans-shallow-grave/#comment-21</guid>
		<description>Thank you, Mary. It&#039;s wonderful to see that place, again, and through your eyes. And thanks, too, Grant &amp; Viv. (Grant, these adventures of yours have my interest piqued. Call you soon).

A.</description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Thank you, Mary. It&#8217;s wonderful to see that place, again, and through your eyes. And thanks, too, Grant &#038; Viv. (Grant, these adventures of yours have my interest piqued. Call you soon).</p>
<p>A.</p>
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		<title>By: Mary Williamson</title>
		<link>http://annestone.net/2007/10/07/henighans-shallow-grave/comment-page-1/#comment-20</link>
		<dc:creator>Mary Williamson</dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Tue, 09 Oct 2007 20:48:50 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://annestone.net/lately/2007/10/07/henighans-shallow-grave/#comment-20</guid>
		<description>In the Visionary Prelude - (For Robert Allen)

we all arrive at a supernatural place of declining light
over Jimmie Walker swamp  where

none of the morning glory in the ditches here
have ever appeared in your dooryard
(among wild roses, ox eyed daisies, buttercups, day lilies),
a mix of things part wild, part planted.

when we alight upon your supernatural space
time itself stops     all is light and shadow

words come to you; writing whatever is original
hearing fireworks, motorcycles, summer

You want to see my hands among
the growing things imagining me
at work in your garden

or sitting across talking eye to eye
tipsy on scotch single malt and blended
writing late at night

when i awake  grass is wet in
between showers sparkling sun
watching water drip off boughs
becoming aware  I&#039;m looking at two
young deer 
thirty feet below your window.

until they move slightly i don&#039;t see them.   they&#039;re not spooked,
just move off down the ravine in a dignified way.

(there is sun and there is light and you aren&#039;t in them)

&quot;ghoulish and hungry, death  invites you absurdly away on a

supernatural voyage of your own.
(My dreams won&#039;t call you back)

I am more myself alone&quot;

Your elegies pass between the living like a newborn.

(text in quotation by Robert Allen)</description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>In the Visionary Prelude &#8211; (For Robert Allen)</p>
<p>we all arrive at a supernatural place of declining light<br />
over Jimmie Walker swamp  where</p>
<p>none of the morning glory in the ditches here<br />
have ever appeared in your dooryard<br />
(among wild roses, ox eyed daisies, buttercups, day lilies),<br />
a mix of things part wild, part planted.</p>
<p>when we alight upon your supernatural space<br />
time itself stops     all is light and shadow</p>
<p>words come to you; writing whatever is original<br />
hearing fireworks, motorcycles, summer</p>
<p>You want to see my hands among<br />
the growing things imagining me<br />
at work in your garden</p>
<p>or sitting across talking eye to eye<br />
tipsy on scotch single malt and blended<br />
writing late at night</p>
<p>when i awake  grass is wet in<br />
between showers sparkling sun<br />
watching water drip off boughs<br />
becoming aware  I&#8217;m looking at two<br />
young deer<br />
thirty feet below your window.</p>
<p>until they move slightly i don&#8217;t see them.   they&#8217;re not spooked,<br />
just move off down the ravine in a dignified way.</p>
<p>(there is sun and there is light and you aren&#8217;t in them)</p>
<p>&#8220;ghoulish and hungry, death  invites you absurdly away on a</p>
<p>supernatural voyage of your own.<br />
(My dreams won&#8217;t call you back)</p>
<p>I am more myself alone&#8221;</p>
<p>Your elegies pass between the living like a newborn.</p>
<p>(text in quotation by Robert Allen)</p>
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	<item>
		<title>By: Grant Loewen</title>
		<link>http://annestone.net/2007/10/07/henighans-shallow-grave/comment-page-1/#comment-19</link>
		<dc:creator>Grant Loewen</dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Tue, 09 Oct 2007 01:16:05 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://annestone.net/lately/2007/10/07/henighans-shallow-grave/#comment-19</guid>
		<description>Each of us chooses or falls, if we&#039;re lucky, into a language, a source of ideas, an engagement with people imaginary and real, which together with our fingers select the words we write and if we&#039;re even luckier a powerful and unique voice is heard which has little, maybe nothing, to do with introducing anything meta, neo, post or sidereal into the Canadian (of all places!) literary landscape, yet which has made this student laugh and weep with the emotion of ideas and craft which in turn started several cosmic rips in the critical categories that used to be interesting to me. I still imagine, as do all good Canadians, the dumb killers in the united america states (and wannabes) tying the feet of their children to the shower head in their tubs and slitting all their throats. To Rob, as I read him, this would be trivial nonsense, and he would say, not in so many words, very politely through the fog of way too much beer, &quot;you can do better.&quot; There was no literary treachery in his work. There is his voice.</description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Each of us chooses or falls, if we&#8217;re lucky, into a language, a source of ideas, an engagement with people imaginary and real, which together with our fingers select the words we write and if we&#8217;re even luckier a powerful and unique voice is heard which has little, maybe nothing, to do with introducing anything meta, neo, post or sidereal into the Canadian (of all places!) literary landscape, yet which has made this student laugh and weep with the emotion of ideas and craft which in turn started several cosmic rips in the critical categories that used to be interesting to me. I still imagine, as do all good Canadians, the dumb killers in the united america states (and wannabes) tying the feet of their children to the shower head in their tubs and slitting all their throats. To Rob, as I read him, this would be trivial nonsense, and he would say, not in so many words, very politely through the fog of way too much beer, &#8220;you can do better.&#8221; There was no literary treachery in his work. There is his voice.</p>
]]></content:encoded>
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	<item>
		<title>By: Vivienne Allen</title>
		<link>http://annestone.net/2007/10/07/henighans-shallow-grave/comment-page-1/#comment-17</link>
		<dc:creator>Vivienne Allen</dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Sun, 07 Oct 2007 23:12:58 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://annestone.net/lately/2007/10/07/henighans-shallow-grave/#comment-17</guid>
		<description>Anne, well-expressed, and if I might say so, very restrained on your part! V</description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Anne, well-expressed, and if I might say so, very restrained on your part! V</p>
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