mad in pursuit: letters from james & orpha, summer of '26

LETTERS from James & Orpha: contents

next letter

last letter

mad in pursuit home



Postmarked Saturday 7.24.26, from Orpha in Glens Falls NY

It is well that I am only learning wanting – your letters bring comfort and strength – the lines are ones I have long loved and I feel them stir me as they always have – but they do not calm me as they should, as they have before – There seems to be no peace anywhere – I almost desire none, so wholly am I possessed of this shaking, quivering thing – there is nothing to do now but to spend it in hard work – and in that way consume the hours that otherwise I could not command strength to endure – oh, James, if I had known before – last summer, that this is loving – if I had had any conception of what you were feeling –

Before, you were a Prince to me, a Silver-clad Prince leading me thru a misty coolness, to a star-lit mountain where a moon guarded us as it slowly wove thru snow-like clouds – and you sang and murmured to me – while I hid my face on your shoulder as the moon slipped behind whiteness –

Now, you are a Sun god – in a Flame-woven, burning garment of burnished gold – it is noon day – we are carried together, on a panting denizen of swiftness to a forest of fire-tipped, glowing trees that do not shield us from the reaching, desiring sun – you are holding me – my face is toward yours and my scorching lips are crying for yours –

Oh forgive – I am trying to be strong, my James – but it is hard – I do not mean to tantalize you, to weaken your restraint – I shall be sane.

How can you think my plea for a letter on each day begging for a mechanical calendar-like operation? – the day meant often – never, oh, never a forced letter, James, you know I want spontaneity in all, too – I could not explain on the phone – people were here – but I feared an interminable interval again – I was then anticipating what torture it would be now – And as for directing me to concern myself with writing to you – it is now my life, I can but write, whenever my tired foolish hand can scrawl, it shall be at least your name – your name, my James, oh I am trying to be strong—




Thumbs Up if you liked this entry