I have received a volume of poems from my friend in Grahamstown, Harry Owen. It’s called The Cull and I am frustrated that I cannot yet read it. I want to devote all my attention to it, and that is my excuse for not having reviewed it. I owe reviews to other poets as well, and the excuse remains the same.

I promise that I have not lost interest in the blog. The problem is, as Wordsworth wrote:

The world is too much with us; late and soon,

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;—

But then he probably had a trust fund.





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