| A digital Collection, for a couple of dollars. Is there a finer poet in the English language? Some would say no. Generally very short poems, but filled with astonishing imagery, gesture, sometimes wry, often imbued by nature, loss, hope.
I gained it so,
By climbing slow,
By catching the twigs that grow
Between the bliss and me.
(Herb Roselle - bwl 106 Autumn 2022) |
