The Recrudescence of the Muse: One Poet’s Journey
Freedom is only truly freedom when it appears against the background of an artificial limitation. —T. S. Eliot Rhythm and […]
Freedom is only truly freedom when it appears against the background of an artificial limitation. —T. S. Eliot Rhythm and […]
Once only a gray-green mat, like the weeds That have survived winter in the bare ground Around the roses. Now
They spotted him one early gray morning placidly seated by the children’s swingset, over-sized marzipan cat, like a child’s stuffed
Small bird in the rafters. Book buried in the hay bales. Harness rotting at the door. The days after my
Three boats head east toward/div> the docks, another to sea, two figures aboard, as the sun brushes its dusky violet