I read the news today that Adrienne Rich--arguably the most important politically-engaged poet in the United States--is dead. But somehow, I don't feel grief. Is it because I never knew her except in the words she trailed, like comet's light? What a vibrating, pulsing voice in the words she left behind, lighting the dark. Consider, for example, the monumental and yet vulnerably awake, in this fugitively placarded video: "North American Time":
If I write one line as important as any of hers, it will have been worth the grief of writing. Opening any of her books was to be opened.
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