Trying to squeeze in a tiny post between taking the dog to the groomer and taking a phone call about editorial work. So here's bit more Carruth, and perhaps later I'll get a chance to talk about Henry James again. Or perhaps I will be too overwhelmed by today's parent-teacher conference at the Harmony School and will only be able to mope and/or sigh gustily.
Sometimes it occurs to me in the moonlit
stillness of the summer night that Dionysus
will come and take you from me.
I tell you: poets will worry about anything. Clearly, that is one thing we all have in common.