“Life shakes like a drum and would discover resonances of what it loves in its own beat, the old man wetting and heating the head of the drum until it answerd the tone he sought that sought him.” —Robert Duncan, “Reflections,” Bending the Bow I’m re-reading all of Duncan’s poetry in my library to prepare for reading The H.D. Book, which just arrived in the mail. But I couldn’t resist reading Michael Boughn‘s and Victor Coleman‘s Introduction, where I found this choice passage: “What is hidden is constantly brought into the light of the language of the poet, a frail…Read More