Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Great Regulars: A troubadour of love, [D.A.] Powell

will not go gently into the good night of being ignored. He may not be the reckless fruit of his youth; he refuses to be useless. "My undesirable body, you're all I have to fiddle with," he writes in another poem. "The fiddle's wood has cracked but it still plays."

from John Freeman: Star Tribune: "Useless Landscape," by D.A. Powell


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