The New Yorker: Poetry cover image

Rachel Eliza Griffiths Reads W.S. Merwin

The New Yorker: Poetry

CHAPTER

I Love the Poem Rain Light

I think merwin seemed to me to write from this kind of, first mine, intuitive, mystic kind of place. And the washed colors of the after life, it seems, i don't want to say baptism, but just kind of the certain dying,. But also a that there something to be made, like there's an object, or there's an art to this am. I'm reminding us to kind of be observant in our day to day moment, even though we're most mostly engaged.

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