I read the March poems written by the two E’s – Ellen and Emma – with whom I trade poems, without any idea of which one wrote which one. Usually, I would know by style, but this time they each hit close to a certain bone and I can’t tell whose is whose.

Not only does this make me evaluate them both more fairly, in my mind, their authorship becomes collective.

Somehow their styles merge, and I attribute to each of them – and to both poems – the respective poetic histories of BOTH writers.

I think this has not a little to do with seeing BEARD OF AVON. To have uncertain authorship is an interpretive gift. If any author is possible, all possibilities are possible.