Poems by Richard Epstein. Not much commentary, only one picture (sorry, Alice), and little disruption: just a place to find poems by Richard Epstein
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
The summer doldrums
seem to have begun in spring. Global warming, I presume. It seems quiet and sort of half hearted around the poetry areas where I read. Perhaps the activity is all taking place in a Room of Requirements or a new branch of the He-Man Woman-Haters' Club*, undisclosed to me. I attribute the silence here to a general sense of awe, readers struck dumb by wonder. Occam might suggest a simpler explanation.
*Are allusions to The Little Rascals still generally comprehensible? If I sing the "Happy Birthday, Mr. Hood" song, will anyone know what he got as a gift?