My reading of George Eliot's Middlemarch after 40 years and what I gained thereby
In music, as in every art-form, there has arisen in recent times the illusion that knowledge is not necessary, that the old forms of discipline are…
In the barmkin hushed unsleeping Atop the battlements, amid the flames Sentries prowl, fog enshrouded: We fear the foe without a name The foe we fear…
(Approx. 22°20'N 120°53'E. Photo credit: The Author) The effect of gravity upon the teeth One underestimates for an overbite: The subtle invisibility of…
Originally published in New English Review
A poem in trimeter, originally published in the New English Review
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The Birth of Venus and Other Beauties