...if you're in love, you have nothing. Like, absolutely nothing.

A poem which asks if you just want to lift your hat, overtaken with excitement, as you walk down the street.

How do we juggle love, our need to create, and our desire for attention?

Instead of defending norms which protect people, we disguise our cowardice as principle.

This strange poem flirts briefly with the themes of classical political philosophy.

The big questions swirl around Dickinson's time, too, and are answered in bloodshed.

You don't have to be a pagan to know that some areas are meant to be wild and untouched.

You will have your days on Earth and they will be numbered.

Dickinson's "When I have seen the Sun emerge" is an easy poem to indulge.

Dickinson claims "Pain – has an Element of Blank." I can't help but think how uncomfortable we are with that notion.

The question for us is our devotion to the worthless.

...how to respond to someone determined to tell you everything you're reading is worthless?

Dickinson does not inch toward the cosmic.

...this little poem starts with trying to look into a quiet, lush landscape painting and wish yourself there.

Many have used poetry to generate lingering, meditative essays, but Dickinson is in rare form with "Experience is the Angled Road."

Dickinson's darkly comic opening should rankle us. Really? You can wade grief?

There is no way to talk about being American without confronting Emily Dickinson.

Sometimes I think about doing. Perhaps there is a meaning to doing itself, a meaning that holds true for all actions.

I do think there's a strong relation between hope and anxiety...

What shattering, colossal lines: "A nearness to Tremendousness – / An Agony procures."

I want to begin 2024 by talking about Dickinson's "There's a certain Slant of light."

This Thanksgiving, I forgot to count my blessings.

I never thought I'd see a world dominated this thoroughly by big babies who have the magic power of making the unacceptable seem rational.