Pandemic Poetry 1

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886), the great metaphysical poet and literary recluse, voluntarily sheltered in place and treasured her solitude. What greater source of inspiration for surviving the times? During "stay home" order there will be frequent posts from her work, along with updating in the service of preserving sanity (and for which I know her lyrical spirit will forgive me!). So check back often, and feel free to join in this irreverent project.

The soul selects her own society,
Then shuts the door;
On her divine majority
Obtrude no more.

                             -Dickinson

The virus loves society,

so we all sit home and kvetch

in self-dealt isolation,

This germ poop not to catch.

                    -Storyweaver