bill and the blue guitar

In April, at Easter (and it must have been another late Easter that year), I think of a man named Bill. I have several blog posts in my head about this, but I’m not willing to write any of them right now. Maybe later. Maybe next year. So this will have to suffice for now. The poem I reference is by Wallace Stevens.

The Old Guitarist by Pablo Picasso

The Man with the Blue Guitar
Is inextricably linked
In my head
In my heart
To a tall, thin scholar
A man called Bill
Who played the blue guitar
Until he couldn’t
And in our class
The class he shared
The circle in which he should have been
We read
The Man with the Blue Guitar
And wept

This entry was posted in Graduate School, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to bill and the blue guitar

  1. quackademic says:

    Oh, bookgirl. Beautiful.

  2. Leslie says:

    Wow. Just wow.

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