This may shock you (or not, really, most of you don’t know me) but I just read “M., Singing” by Louise Bogan and wow, why haven’t I read her before? Or if I have, why don’t I remember?
Now, innocent, within the deep
Night of all things you turn the key,
Unloosing what we know in sleep.
It’s just a sample. But wow. . . must read more. Any Boganphiles out there let me know what to read and where to begin.