No charm can stay, no medicine can assuage,
The sad incurable disease of age;
Only the hand in youth more warmly prest
Makes soft the couch and calms the final rest.
No charm can stay, no medicine can assuage,
The sad incurable disease of age;
Only the hand in youth more warmly prest
Makes soft the couch and calms the final rest.
“One of the things that seems to impel me is it never made any sense to me to separate the genres so much. Ideally, I would move towards incorporating poetry into narrative. I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t even move in and out of poetry. A lot of poets stick a lot of prose in their poems now. What holds the separation in place is, I think, money.“
Ronald Sukenick