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Charles Randall Stanfield from a Bergamot Tree

  Charles Randall Stanfield from a Bergamot Tree Today I thought of him.  I poured a cup Of English tea and, as I poured, my mind Did that strange thing that brains will do — filled up With something unexpected.  Life aligned With beauty not related to the tea, Its...

The Luna Moth, the Poet, and Philosopher

The Luna Moth, the Poet, and Philosopher “Carlotta Capuccino [in her article], ‘Plato’s Ion and the Ethics of Praise,’ takes the . . . view that poetry deploys ‘groundless praise’ and ‘promotes a dogmatic and passive style of life and thought,’ and so is ‘essentially...

Dido and Aeneas

             Dido and Aeneas The Queen of Carthage sings that “he is gone” In white-smoke pain.  Purcell gives smoke-white tongue To those who lose their men.  She acts as pawn; He swells her aching throat and tortured lung With passions of the flames that fill her,...

Near Enough

Near Enough He’s almost beautiful, his shoulders big Enough, but not remarkable, his nose A handsome size, his hair thick as a wig Some balding man might buy, and in repose His face is solemn, not some pretty thing. The upper eyelids are as dark in tone As if...