Read a poem, talk about it, read it again.
Connor and Jack revisit Louise Glück after she won the Nobel Prize in Literature, discussing Part 2 of the poem "October." They explore the poem's haunting and brilliant use of repetition, its idea of "balm after violence," and the poem's connection with the myth of Persephone, 9/11, and the current American moment.
Read the poem in its entirety [here](https://poems.com/poem/october-section-i/). Read more about Glück [here](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/louise-gluck). October By: Louise Glück 2. Summer after summer has ended, balm after violence: it does me no good to be good to me now; violence has changed me. Daybreak. The low hills shine ochre and fire, even the fields shine. I know what I see; sun that could be the August sun, returning everything that was taken away— You hear this voice? This is my mind’s voice; you can’t touch my body now. It has changed once, it has hardened, don’t ask it to respond again. A day like a day in summer. Exceptionally still. The long shadows of the maples nearly mauve on the gravel paths. And in the evening, warmth. Night like a night in summer. It does me no good; violence has changed me. My body has grown cold like the stripped fields; now there is only my mind, cautious and wary, with the sense it is being tested. Once more, the sun rises as it rose in summer; bounty, balm after violence. Balm after the leaves have changed, after the fields have been harvested and turned. Tell me this is the future, I won’t believe you. Tell me I’m living, I won’t believe you.