Welcome to A Silken Tent. This newsletter is something of a “public notebook” where you will find personal musings on literature, film, philosophy, religious studies, gardening, and more, as well as updates about what I might be publishing elsewhere.
She is as in a field a silken tent At midday when the sunny summer breeze Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent, So that in guys it gently sways at ease, And its supporting central cedar pole, That is its pinnacle to heavenward And signifies the sureness of the soul, Seems to owe naught to any single cord, But strictly held by none, is loosely bound By countless silken ties of love and thought To everything on earth the compass round, And only by one’s going slightly taut In the capriciousness of summer air Is of the slightest bondage made aware.
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Copyeditor gremlin and occasional writer.