I'm intrigued by the mystical dimension of the passage, a poem by itself, till now overlooked as a piece of mere description. And I reach out to where
    Dawn points, and another day
Prepares for heat and silence. Out at sea the dawn wind
Wrinkles and slides. I am here
Or there, or elsewhere. In my beginning.

--- On Thu, 6/30/11, Peter Montgomery <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
The beginning of the passage contains the end.
The end of the passage is the litle people.
They are at the deep end of the deep lane, the
insisting lane.


----- Original Message -----
From: "Peter Montgomery" <[log in to unmask]" ymailto="mailto:[log in to unmask]">[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]" ymailto="mailto:[log in to unmask]">[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Thursday, June 30, 2011 1:22 AM
Subject: Re: electric heat, deep lane in East Coker

> Note this whole passage is a package leading one into a trance in which
one experiences the little folk.
> Note that Tim's deep lane is a repetition.
> What is the symbolism of the dahlias?
> Are there devices used in conjuring a trance which use electricity?
> The van creates a kind of separation from normal consciousness into the
> trance.
> The sultry light is not ordinary. It is absorbed, as is one's
> I think the deep lane is a symbol for the experiencer's consciousness as
> it is taken over into a deep trance. I think static electricity is a very good
> possibility.
> There is potency in the imagery. It is wound up and ready to strike, ready
> to zap, and the little people are the end product of the zap.
> This is just my first percolation. No doubt more to come.
> Note this is just a standard approach to such analysis.
> I don't much agree with doing it this way, but if that's
> what's happening then I will try to be nice and join in.
> Here is the whole passage. Surely it is small enough
> that its wholeness can be absorbed.:
> In my beginning is my end. Now the light falls
> Across the open field, leaving the deep lane
> Shuttered with branches, dark in the afternoon,
> Where you lean against a bank while a van passes,
> And the deep lane insists on the direction
> Into the village, in the electric heat
> Hypnotised. In a warm haze the sultry light
> Is absorbed, not refracted, by grey stone.
> The dahlias sleep in the empty silence.
> Wait for the early owl.