In this poem, Robert Cording places himself in an unusual spot: “at the graveyard where I’ll be / buried” and even specifically sitting “on my gravesite.” The poem is a testing out of various tones toward this meeting place of the living moment and its inevitable future end. Teasingly, he calls himself “a Constable imposter” [Read More...]
from
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/goodletters/2017/07/poetry-friday-graveyard-prayer/
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