It is both flattering and unsettling for a literary critic to find a work he penned seen as an object of criticism. It gives one pause about writing criticism. . . .
This piece is not new, but I had forgotten it. As it links to a journal which I like, and which has published me again recently, I’ll bring it up again. The following passage seems to me to be where the reader coincides most with any intentions I may have had in writing the poem:
The octet ends with an apparent death, a “clotted brain.” The broken vessel of the opening line of the sextet, is then initially read as a blood vessel, and thus is tied inextricably to the woman. This sets up a concrete metaphoric relationship between the woman herself and the vessel which has just dropped from her lifeless hands.