I'd already been up for two hours, editing a difficult line in a poem, when the nearby military base sounded the reveille. I paused and looked at the clock, wondering if the American war machine was getting lax.
I'm pulling ahead, I thought, feeling suddenly uplifted. It might be a chance that poetry will win after all.
I'm pulling ahead, I thought, feeling suddenly uplifted. It might be a chance that poetry will win after all.
