I hadn’t even the slightest of cravings for poetry before I read Mary Oliver’s American Primitive. It’s one of the most astounding pieces of anything that I’ve ever read and it turned me into a full-blown addict of the genre. That and also Ginsberg’s Howl, which is equally as moving in its own right. The thing about Oliver’s works however, is that they’re a play-by-play of the nature scene that some of us, if not most of us, wish we could physically experience at least once per day. She was a brilliant poet and will be missed. When I go outside and cast my glimpses on the backdrop symphony of any one moment, I’m immediately transported into the beauty of her forever inspiring and humble words.
(Photos taken by me.)
Looking for a new read? Take the car out for a moonlit drive 🌙 , roll the windows down 🚗 , crank up the jukebox oldies 🎵 , and check out my debut poetry collection Strange Cars in the Night on Amazon today.
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