It was the summer of ’69, and my mother took me to the Woodhaven Library where I found a book of poetry, and I opened it to a random page where the poem was written on the left and had drawings on the right, one picture for every few lines of poetry; and, I made Mom take a Xerox copy for me, and years later I became a poet and would go on to teach a Poetry Workshop in that same Library — the poem began: “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players — the poet, Shakespeare — the play, As You Like It.

It was the summer of ’69, and my mother took me to the Woodhaven Library where I found a book of poetry, and I opened it to a random page where the poem was written on the left and had drawings on the right, one picture for every few lines of poetry; and, I made Mom take a Xerox copy for me, and years later I became a poet and would go on to teach a Poetry Workshop in that same Library — the poem began: “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players — the poet, Shakespeare — the play, As You Like It.

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