If my mother had not been an alcoholic, I might not have been a poet.
One evening, as the monks sang and played the harp, Caedmon slipped away. He knew no songs. Thus embarrassed, he spent the night sleeping with the animals. In his dream, “someone”, Bede says, approached Caedmon, and asked him to sing of the beginning of all things.
that moment when you know
you did this one thing right
In the green morning,
I wanted to be heart.
Michael Castro 1945 – 2018 while the snow wants to melt winter loiters and I will listen I will listen for you when I need a noun a sudden muscle an animal can use to … Continue reading
It is autumn. There are not many of the old hands left. I am the last of the seven fellows from our class. Everyone talks of peace and armistice. All … Continue reading