Gentle lady, do not sing
Sad songs about the end of love;
Lay aside sadness and sing,
How love that passes is enough.

Sing about the long deep sleep
Of lovers that are dead and how
In the grave all love shall sleep
Love is aweary now

– James Joyce

Poetry

the I is a by-light
a grievance by a wild fire
the grammar of layered time

Philosophy

An earlier version of this obituary misstated the name of Mr. Hoagland’s first poetry collection. It is “Sweet Ruin,” not “Sweet Rain.”

Poetry

“You are colonizing a place in my mind that i didn’t know existed before, so, can i call it home?”

Poetry

“The secret courtesy that courses like ichor
Through the old form of the rude, full-scale joke,
Impossible to tell in writing.” – Robert Pinsky, Impossible to Tell

Poetry