The moon has nothing to be sad about.

In the line preceding the crackling and dragging blacks, the speaker notes that "She is used to this sort of thing." The antecedent of "she" is the moon, as it is personified in the prior stanza, and the line is an elaboration on the statement that, "The moon has nothing to be sad about." Which ends in a preposition. But I just wrote a fragment, so it'll be all right.

In any case, when I imagine the moon crackling and dragging, I imagine its orbit through space. Taking into consideration that the moon is [probably] lifeless, I can't imagine anything on the moon would be crackling and dragging. The "blacks" could perhaps be referencing the "edge" of the moon, which looks black in the night sky, but that seems like a disappointing and shallow interpretation to me. What else is black in the moon, though? Craters? "The man in the moon"? I used to think the moon looked like it had a picture of a wolf on a cliff howling at the moon in it. I don't see it anymore, which is disappointing.

The title would probably have to refer to more than merely the edges of the moon as perceived from Earth, however. It could tie into the line, "We have come so far, it is over." There, they (the feet?) reach a sort of metaphorical edge. It could be the edge of life, as many have already noted. Knowing as we do that Plath favored confessional poetry and also that this poem was one of the last she wrote prior to her suicide, this interpretation would make align well. Maybe the perfected dead body of the Greek woman is her twisted glamorization of death. Having read Ava's post, I do see now some oddly striking parallels between Plath's mindset and Nina's in Black Swan.

It reminded me of that song a little bit. That song almost became my eighth grade class's graduation song. It's a crazy world.

"How did I get into this ... great big nutshell?"

The Roundhouse Voices - Dave Smith

In a nutshell:

There's a guy who practiced baseball with his uncle a lot, and the uncle died, and now he's having an identity crisis.

"I'm here/ though this is a day I did not want to see," provides the only bit of enjambement in the poem, which I can only imagine to be a short of shift in tone to one more directly melancholy. "Mick" is an allusion to Mickey Mantle, who I have learned from Google is a baseball legend, so that makes sense. I am as yet unsure of the significance of the roundhouse, which is like a shed. Maybe the speaker is in the roundhouse, and he's recalling those voices asking him who he is and maybe something his uncle said to him. The "box of silk" is a euphemism for a casket, and "the sun that made its glove soft on my hand" is personification. "I see myself like a burning speck/ of cinder come down the hill and through a tunnel/ of porches," is a simile.

... but shouldn't "nazi" be capitalized?

"Oh! stars and clouds and winds, ye are all about to mock me: if ye really pity me, crush sensation and memory; let me become as nought; but if not, depart, depart, and leave me in darkness." - p. 107

I have lots to say about that sentence. Primarily, I can't decide if the talking to the stars and clouds and winds is more personification or an apostrophe or both. Also, I don't like the loosey-goosey grammar rules of the seventeen hundreds that made it okay not to capitalize the words after the interjections. Also also, I am not sure about the colon usage; I feel like they should really both just be semi-colons. (SeewhatIdidthere?!) I guess I can't talk, though, having just written an essay with an incomplete sentence as the first word of the introduction. (I never ever DO that! I just don't. I am thoroughly embarrassed.)

In any case, it's personification because Victor's telling the stars and clouds and winds that they're going to be mocking him any second now, which is simply not normal atmospheric behavior. It still seems kind of like an apostrophe or an invocation, though, because the stars and clouds and winds can't hear his aimless chattering.

All the world's a stage.

I think Miss Brill watched a little too much Toy Story. Necklets don't cry. Although I guess this one did have eyes, which is disturbing to me.

I also think she was projecting. Right there at the end, when she's gone home and passed the baker's because she's sad, she thinks she hears something inside the box crying, but it can't be. She is projecting her sadness onto inanimate objects.

This is somewhat ironic because, from all of her Sunday people watching in the park, she seems to be something of an expert at interpreting people's reactions. She's in denial, however, about her own. It's also possible, though, that she's projecting in the other instances as well because she can never know, for sure, how the strangers in the park actually feel about things, as she never interacts with them.

On a side note, "Brille" means "glasses" in German, but I didn't see any other evidence that led me to believe Miss Brill to be German.

"Immanent" is not a misspelling. I thought it was a misspelling.

"The Convergence of the Twain"--that's the point where two things meet! Thanks, Trevor!

Anyway, the things meeting are almost indisputably the Titanic and the glacier that drowned it. This becomes more evident when one remembers to read the subtitles: "Lines on the loss of the 'Titanic.'" The "vaingloriousness" of the affair is evidenced in the mentioning of such items as mirrors and jewels which have been ravaged by "salamandrine fires."

Also, the "Immanent Will" seems to me like a description of fate. Is it personification if it's capitalized like that? Probably it is not. Similarly, I believe "Spinner of the Years" to be a metaphor-type-thing for God.

The format of this poem was intriguing as well.... Why eleven stanzas, Mr. Hardy?