Essays After Eighty

I definitely was in the wrong mood to read poet Donald Hall’s memoir of what life as a privileged old white man was like. RIP, since he died recently, but perhaps his poems are better foodstuff for my brain than his haphazard recollections of various wives & helpmates, various awards and trips and other yawning details of a long luxurious life teetering toward death on an ancient farm in New Hampshire.