November 7, 2007 – Cold, raw. November is, to me, the dankest and gloomiest month of the year, a slope to the holidays. Not warm, not winter. Just gray.
   Went to Cambridge, saw Margaret, picked up the book I ordered months ago, “The Best Poems in the English Language,” edited by Harold Bloom of Yale. I hope to share some of those poems here. Struck gold right away with “I dwell in Possibility-” by Emily Dickinson:

  I dwell in Possibility –
  A fairer House than Prose –
  More numerous of Windows-
  Superior – for Doors –
 
   Of Chambers as the Cedars –
   Impregnable of Eye-
   And for an Everlasting Roof
   The Gambrels of the Sky-
   Of Visitors – the fairest-
   For Occupation – This-
   The spreading wide my narrow Hands
   To gather Paradise –