No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were. …
In memory of Grant Andrews (1960 – 2013)
I imagine most people reading the title of this post will be puzzled by the name, and wonder what corner of the poetry world he hails from. And the answer is: he doesn’t. He wasn’t a poet. But, after my grandmother, he is the person most responsible for me being a poet. And he died …
Tuesday Poem – “A Valediction Forbidding Mourning”, by John Donne
As virtuous men pass mildly away, And whisper to their souls to go, Whilst some of their sad friends do say “The breath goes now,” and some say, “No” So let us melt, and make no noise, No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move; ’Twere profanation of our joys To tell the laity our love. Movement of …
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A Dark Feathered Art 