that might otherwise be unanswerable: "the standing stone of time/says to me--/get a life, girlfriend" now that the "empty world tells me/we've heard enough about your sorrow, missy". The artfulness is in the exposure itself, the bare stage, the bereavement not over but the imagination still drawn to the impersonal fact of beauty, "as the full-leaf trees/buck their great green manes/in the strong westerly//and the field shines/in a sudden bright elegy/of sunlight".from The Guardian: Unsent: New and Selected Poems 1980-2012 by Penelope Shuttle--review
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