we understand it if he doesn't discriminate between the living and the dead? How can he even begin to understand the terror of not knowing how things will turn out? Is this a "religious" poem? More, I'd say, a poem that profoundly touches the paradox of human intelligence and helplessness, bound together.[by Louise Glück]
Vespers
from Fleda Brown: Traverse City Record-Eagle: On Poetry: Growing tomatoes up north
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