Kimiko Hahn, my weekly newsletter tells me, is in this month's Poetry. I let myself be lured online. I read till the end and then some. Collect words for my backpack like snarfle and charnel and spur. The idea of circumspect mothballs, the idea of browbeaten trees. (More than anything, maybe I love tidal pools too.)
By the bottom of the web page, maybe eye scroll too fast...
...and I think: What would it taste like, this carpaccio of an imaginary prison?
[Santo Spirito, Firenze]
[mercoledý 22 marzo 2017 ore 15:50:00] [¶]