Advice from Dead Poets (and Some Living): W.S. Merwin on waiting at a red light
By Abigail McFee | April 11Yesterday morning, I sat in the backseat of a friend’s car in downtown Boston at a red light that never turned green. I don’t mean that as an exaggeration. The chorus of blaring horns stretching for a block behind us didn’t tip us off to the fact that the light was broken.We sat with the windows ...












