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SENTENCES, by             Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography

Robert Pinsky's "Sentences" is a meditation on memory, fleeting encounters, and the elusive nature of meaning. The poem captures a moment suspended in time, where the past intersects with the present, and the mundane becomes infused with a sense of loss and longing. Through its imagery and contemplative tone, the poem explores how language and memory can both reveal and obscure our experiences.

The opening lines set the scene in November, a month often associated with transition and decay. The "November sun" touches the "avenues, offices, the station," grounding the poem in a specific yet universal urban landscape. This sunlight, though weak and fleeting, casts a glow over the surroundings, hinting at the warmth that is already fading with the onset of winter. The setting is ordinary, yet the speaker's perception of it is heightened, as though the very act of reading sentences has opened a door to deeper reflection.

The poem's narrative centers around a brief, almost surreal encounter: "I saw you pass me on a street, your face / Was pink with cold." This figure, whom the speaker recognizes yet does not truly know, embodies a paradox—someone both familiar and strange. The pinkness of the face from the cold adds a touch of vividness to the scene, contrasting with the otherwise muted tones of the November day. The coldness, both literal and metaphorical, underscores the distance between the speaker and the figure, a distance that is emphasized by the "cold windows" flashing and the mythology-like quality of the street.

Pinsky's use of the word "mythology" to describe the stores and cars suggests that the everyday world is imbued with a sense of the mythic or the unreal, as if the speaker is seeing the world through a lens that transforms the mundane into something otherworldly. The street itself is "glamorous and lost," a phrase that encapsulates the tension between attraction and disorientation. This place is alluring, yet it is also a place where one can easily lose oneself—physically, emotionally, or in memory.

The speaker then reflects on the paradoxical nature of the encounter: "It was / As though I never knew you yet somehow knew / That this was you." This line captures the essence of the poem—an experience that is both intimate and distant, familiar yet alien. The "sentence" that "interdicted / The present" speaks to the power of language to interrupt or alter our perception of reality. It is as if the very act of thinking in sentences, of framing experience in words, creates a barrier between the speaker and the moment.

As the poem progresses, the imagery becomes more vivid and detailed: "Leaves coppery and quick as lizards moved / Around your delicate ankles." The comparison of the leaves to lizards suggests a sense of life and movement, yet also something elusive and quick to disappear. The "delicate ankles" of the figure add a touch of fragility to the scene, reinforcing the sense of something precious and fleeting.

The poem concludes with a return to the "November sun," which now "Lay on the sidewalk, ordinary and final." This sunlight, which began as a subtle presence, now becomes a symbol of the end—of the day, of the encounter, of the moment. The "sentences too flat for any poem" suggest a resignation to the limits of language. Despite the richness of the imagery and the depth of the experience, the sentences remain "flat," unable to fully capture the complexity of the moment.

"Sentences" is a poem that grapples with the limitations of language and memory, highlighting how they both shape and constrain our understanding of the world. Through its evocative imagery and introspective tone, the poem invites readers to reflect on their own encounters with the fleeting and the ephemeral, and the ways in which we try to make sense of them through the imperfect medium of words.


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