I'm working on a new piece – a modern revisioning of the most tragic-romantic poem from that most tragic-Romantic of English poets, John Keats: La Belle Dame Sans Merci Oh what can ail thee Knight-at-arms Alone and palely loitering? The sedge has withered from the Lake And no birds sing. Oh what can ail thee …
Continue reading "Romantics, Pre-Raphs, and Edgar Allan Poe(-etry)"
A Dark Feathered Art 