[ by Charles Cameron — party time! — i have a strange sense of party, oxen invited ]
I’m delighted to note a Boustrophedon reference. first by a poet, naturally, Ange Mlinko, in her poem:
A levitating anvil. Omen of seagull
Blown inland. Ranch gate said riverstyx,
but it was the woodland that looked lethal:
no place to put down your foot. Bucolics
— then in the New Yorker cmmentary by Dan Chiasson:
Art imitates life imitating art: “boustrophedon” describes the path that a plow takes as it moves back and forth in a field, the same serpentine path followed by rivers and by classical manuscripts that alternate between left-right and right-left lines of text. Soon, our contemporary Eurydice in the wrong footwear makes the momentous decision to “shed her red wedge / with its Mary Jane band.” Orpheus, who knows how the story ends, steps in to mansplain her error.
Boustrophedon — plus Orpheus!
You remember how obsessed I am with boustrophedon?
Yes indeed, something to watch out for.