Background Notes for What You Know
I remember a little of this. I remember some scents. Some verse forms do have a scent. All of them do, probably. Like spices to be mixed into one of my favorite recipes.
Lately I’ve been cooking up rondeau soups. Our reticent colleague calls the form I use here a “Hunt rondeau,” after Leigh Hunt’s Rondeau. OK, we’ll let it be. It probably was there before Hunt used it, and probably wasn’t called that then. Probably was just called a rondeau. We’ll use Hunt to distinguish it from what my notes normally think of as a rondeau. My notes have dozens of other variations. I think I created many of them to connect all the different variations together and extend them out. Like experimenting with spices in soup. They all work differently, depending on what else you throw into the pot.
In some of my own poems from before, my “Hunt” ones used feminine rhyme on even-numbered lines, like Hunt’s does. I went with all masculine on the poem I am posting here, but rely on a different sonic thing my notes show me. Go with what I know, I keep reminding myself.
Go with what I know. I don’t really need to remember in order to know. Things you really do know and believe, they stay with you even if you forget everything.