20 April 2012

"Griefs and rituals and inside them cosmologies."

The post title is a line from this long poem - "August Notebook: A Death" - by Robert Hass. I came across it this evening while drifting around the web. Haas wrote the poem for his brother. I had read it some time ago in Haas's book The Apple Trees at Olema and the last lines made me cry. I know just what he means. I worry, still. And, mostly, the world takes no notice.

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