Paris, 1970

by Gray Jacobik

Wonderful, thrilling, James Salter-like, and of course, just a little sad too, when one considers the passing of time. Needs to be gorged impatiently. I think the lovers in this poem would have approved of that approach.

Lyrical, delightful imagery. I'm going to read it again and remember my own Paris romance.

Such richness of language, memory mixed with lavish content, alongside the bittersweet fact of time's dissolution, even at the apex of love's fulfillment. With Gray Jacobik's poetry, art's sublimity is always an intensification of life's many mythic disguises, and it enriches us. Thank you, Gray, for another stunning poem.


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