Tag Archives: Love

From a Discarded Post

“A poet’s first preoccupation has to be with love.  Where ordinary men and women–I don’t mean ordinary in any pejorative sense, but rather in its Latin sense–can afford to submit their lives to chance and do, mostly, fairly well as … Continue reading

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On Poetry & Change

I fear that I’m not a very good friend sometimes.  I can be thoughtless and absentminded, and even when I think to call the people I love–and I do love them–the phone seems suddenly to weigh ten tons, and I … Continue reading

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Ours to Love

I literally wrote myself sick last week.  Mostly I think this was because I stayed awake for twenty-four hours the day of the big snowstorm to finish a series of poems, which I began perhaps a week before that.  I don’t … Continue reading

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