The quiet of Aspen allows me a lot of think time. I am indebted to Luci Shaw, the poetry editor of Radix Magazine, where I have been writing lately, for pointing me to the work of Donald Hall, whose provocative poem is followed by my own response: Here is the Hall poem:
The Hole
He could remember that in the past, seven
months ago,
and much of the time for fifty years before
that
his body walked without pain. He breathed
in and out
without knowing that he was breathing, and
he woke up
each day to the day
