Anticipating that most poetry will be worse than carrying heavy luggage through O'Hare Airport, the public, to its loss, reads very little of it.
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Nationality: American Type: Journalist Born: August 14, 1925 |
“When the baby dies, On every side Rose stranger's voices, hard and harsh and loud. The baby was not wrapped in any shroud. The mother made no sound. Her head was bowed That men's eyes might not see Her misery.”
“My heroes are and were my parents. I can't see having anyone else as my heroes.”