The number of hours during which one can read poetry, or read anything are finite.
Not just in a given day, but in a given week or a given (however long we're given) life.
I must remind myself of this every now and then, both as a consolation for the feeling that I've failed if I don't read all the things, and also - more importantly - as a way to remain focused. If you can only read so much, why not read those things that are helpful, informative, inspiring, sincere and beautiful?
Speaking of which, I caught a reading and conversation with Ada Limón and Camille T. Dungy today for the paperback launch of The Carrying. Fantastic stuff.
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