Tag Archives: Mark Strand

Singing Plainsong

If given the choice, I think I would prefer to die towards the end of winter during that bleak time when you think that the cold and snow will never go… when your bones will never warm… when if you fell, your … Continue reading

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Margaritaville

I’ve just read Garrison Keillor‘s most recent letter. Not actually a letter to me personally, but I take his Writer’s Almanac very personally. His conversational tone speaks to me and me alone. And when I hear him read, we two … Continue reading

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