Seems to be a week of reflection and digestion of what we have lost.
No Man Is an Island, by John Donne
Read by Diane Havens
I’ve been thinking of this poem for some time now. We are so interconnected, and every loss does indeed diminish the rest of us.
Strain, by Amy Lowell
Read by Xe Sands
Just when I think I’ve discovered all there is of Amy Lowell, a new snippet of anguish or joy or epiphany will reveal itself to me at exactly the right moment.
Usually I have a bunch to say. But this week, I find I am distracted by many things, mundane and not so mundane. So this piece will just have to stand on its own.
Which, as it’s Lowell we’re talking about, shouldn’t be a problem.