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Edna St. Vincent Millay Meets Jack London
Things have a way of converging. Today I stumbled across this essay about Edna St. Vincent Millay. Last week I had returned to her book of poetry, concentrating on the sonnets. Yesterday we visited the ‘Beauty Ranch’ of Jack London (b. 1876) a contemporary of Millay’s (b. 1892), more or less. London and Millay…
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Sonnet 4: Brubeck’s Gone
Brubeck’s gone now or missing _ a beat Brief as any backward glance _ disguised With inhaled pause words like ‘Oui’ _ replete As a thought caught, considered _ surmised. Riding an updraft in five _ four time Like a finch that bobs and floats _ between Nine quick wingbeats, a suspense _ sublime…
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Paper Darts Magazine
I’m belatedly discovering the art and lit magazine, Paper Darts. This is certainly a function of being out of touch with the Minneapolis/St. Paul scene, which is forever active and evolving. I’ve yet to see a printed version, but have ordered the back issues for download, from the Store heading on the site. Today’s reading…
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Mary Oliver poem for today: Walking to Oak-Head Pond, and Thinking of the Ponds I Will Visit in the Next Days and Weeks
by Mary Oliver What is so utterly invisible as tomorrow? Not love, not the wind, not the inside of stone. Not anything. And yet, how often I’m fooled- I’m wading along in the sunlight- and I’m sure I can see the fields and the ponds shining days ahead- I can see the light spilling…
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Sonnet 3: Wind
As furious as your moods, the dry wind Blasts through bones of the hillside home it shakes, Finds chinks, slams doors, slaps the raw façade thinned By anticipation of drought or quakes. Out of the nowhere, clouds picking up dust Scatter debris from some previous lives, Spinning blame across the field, fragments thrust Like hail,…