As I head fitfully/painfully/joyfully towards finishing my novel about first love in the 1960s, it is delightful and a little dismaying to read Everything We Do by Peter Meinke. However many reasons there may be for writing about first love, Meinke’s poem distils beautifully the motivation for most of them.
Found thanks to my daily sustaining fix from Garrison Keillor’s Writer's Almanac
News: This is Not a Book About Charles Darwin
5 weeks ago