Laureate

It was the eve of the annual elections. The Poet Laureate was tired. He returned from a whirlwind reading tour–Cleveland, Jonesboro, various pubs in Missoula, both Portlands– to his Baltimore…

Among the Dead

I’ve spent some time among the shadows of this collection now, but didn’t yet have any galvanizing window into Merwin, or the book, which all reviews seem to tout as…

White/Noise

I am perhaps not the reader W. S. Merwin wants. I should say not reader but listener. Merwin says poetry begins and ends with listening. But he is so quiet…

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