Richard Eberhart

  • American poetry,  art,  Richard Eberhart

    The Eclipse

    I stood out in the open coldTo see the essence of the eclipseWhich was its perfect darkness. I stood in the cold on the porchAnd could not think of anything so perfectAs mans hope of light in the face of darkness. Richard Eberhart The latest news in contemporary and modern art in New York, London, Paris and Berlin