But the terror there is not for the world as it is, the decentered, disintegrating West, that familiar terrain of death. No, the dread is for that unimagined space, that location where one can live without the “same old shit.”
after they left she would say blandly, that his behavior was ‘vulgar.’ This became her kiss of death statement about someone, a somebody turned unforgivingly unacceptable that lonely me had hoped would become a friend.
In the interest of full disclosure, I begin these few observations on “Invitation to the Voyage: Selected Poems of Peter Marshall Bell,” by declaring that even though I never met Peter, he has been part of my life since 1998. That is because until his death in November, 1994, Peter w...