from Eurydice by H.D.
1. We turn several words over and over these past few days, measuring their weight. Honor versus respect. What is demanded versus what is earned. What is poetry for, I ask myself, if not to closely examine what we mean by
from The Flowering of the Rod by H.D.
"I go where I belong, inexorably, / as the rain that has lain long // in the furrow"