At Sixty Five by Henri Cole

At Sixty-Five Henri Cole It was all so different than he expected.For years he’d been agnostic; now he meditated.For years he’d dreamed of being an artist living abroad;now he reread Baudelaire, Emerson, Bishop.He’d never considered marriage . . .Still, a force through green did fuse.Yes, he wore his pants looser.No, he didn’t do crosswords in bed.No, he […]

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