From T.S Eliot poem:
Paint me a cavernous waste shore
Cast in the unstilled Cyclades,
Paint me the bold anfractuous rocks
Faced by the snarled and yelping seas.

I'd be interested to hear opinions as to appropriateness of this word,
considering dictionary definition:
anfractuous .
5LL(Ec) anfractuosus < L anfractus, pp. of anfringere < an3 (for ambi3), around + frangere, BREAK6 full of twists, turns, and windings; roundabout; tortuous

My point is, the path among the rocks may have been anfractuous, but the rocks werem't.

but the rocks werem't

Can you be sure of that, Bill? I ask, because the rocks of my local coastline are beds of slate and other sedimentary layers, subsequently heaved and twisted into the most extraordinary shapes, and which are now erroded by the action of tides and waves into a crazy pattern of folds and broken curlicues that this image brought vividly alive to my mind.

Dear Mav: Geology can be tricky. If it looks anfractuous to
you, I am in no position to differ with you. But ten times out
of nine, the path between the rocks is anfractuous.

the bold anfractuous rocks
Faced by the snarled and yelping seas.

an, around + frangere, BREAK


I think this may be a witty word-play that goes back to the etymology - the sea breaks around the rocks.

Eliot could have had this in mind as well as the image of the rocks being twisted back upon themselves, and as well as the concept of there being no possible path through the rocks.

Excellent poetry.

Folksy etymology: An = not, fractuous = breakable

Ergo, anfractuous = unbreakable

anfractuous = unbreakable

Actually that was my first interpretation, Bill - and, of course, that meaning works well, too. I was just trying to use the "official" etymology you provided.

Dear fishonabike: my last etymology was mostly to
annoy maverick.

my last etymology was mostly to annoy maverick

I don't think you'll succeed, Bill - he's mostly anfractious.

Here's the poem:

"And the trees about me,
Let them be dry and leafless; let the rocks
Groan with continual surges; and behind me,
Make all a desolation. Look, look, wenches!

1 Paint me a cavernous waste shore
2 Cast in the unstilled Cyclades,
3 Paint me the bold anfractuous rocks
4 Faced by the snarled and yelping seas.
5 Display me Aeolus above
6 Reviewing the insurgent gales
7 Which tangle Ariadne's hair
8 And swell with haste the perjured sails.

9 Morning stirs the feet and hands
10 (Nausicaa and Polypheme),
11 Gesture of orang-outang
12 Rises from the sheets in steam.

13 This withered root of knots of hair
14 Slitted below and gashed with eyes,
15 This oval O cropped out with teeth:
16 The sickle motion from the thighs

17 Jackknifes upward at the knees
18 Then straightens out from heel to hip
19 Pushing the framework of the bed
20 And clawing at the pillow slip.

21 Sweeney addressed full length to shave
22 Broadbottomed, pink from nape to base,
23 Knows the female temperament
24 And wipes the suds around his face.

25 (The lengthened shadow of a man
26 Is history, said Emerson
27 Who had not seen the silhouette
28 Of Sweeney straddled in the sun).

29 Tests the razor on his leg
30 Waiting until the shriek subsides.
31 The epileptic on the bed
32 Curves backward, clutching at her sides.

33 The ladies of the corridor
34 Find themselves involved, disgraced,
35 Call witness to their principles
36 And deprecate the lack of taste

37 Observing that hysteria
38 Might easily be misunderstood;
39 Mrs. Turner intimates
40 It does the house no sort of good.

41 But Doris, towelled from the bath,
42 Enters padding on broad feet,
43 Bringing sal volatile
44 And a glass of brandy neat."


Any comment on the first four lines?

Dear WW: Hard to enjoy wenches in that setting.