No man is an island,
Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thy friend’s
Or of thine own were:
Any man’s death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind,
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.
– John Donne
Bitter branches A Poem by Coyote Poetry P.J Harvey. Her poetic words made me want to write tonight. Bitter branches Old men are like ancient trees. Life will expand and multiply. They will sit on old porches and remember skeletons and blunders. The have learned profound knowledge and the texture of the body get wore […]