I want to start the week with something from a dead white guy, a visionary who has influenced numerous poets over the last 200-plus years.
The Sick Rose
O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
-- William Blake
From Songs of Innocence, 1789
Editor’s Note
3 weeks ago
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