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My Pandemic Year in Books
So Many Books, So Little Time I could have sworn that I’d read far fewer books this year than in past years, but it seems not to be so. It must be one of the few benign side effects of the pandemic. Of course, the pandemic has been hard on my writing, poems—at least poems of my kind—seeming fairly pointless amid the waves of infection and death and the tide of fascism rising out of the GOP (the Goosestepping Old Party).Read More
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Friday Notebook 03.23.12
[From A Treatise on Poetry, by Czesław Miłosz (tr. Robert Hass):] If it’s all a dream, let’s dream it to the bottom. * … [A] poet without communityRustles in the wind like dry grasses in December.Read More