A poem is just a little machine for remembering itself … our memory of the poem is the poem.
A poem is just a little machine for remembering itself … our memory of the poem is the poem.
The voice of a young man One sticks one's finger into the soil to tell by the smell in what…
Heredity I am the family face; Flesh perishes, I live on, Projecting trait and trace Through time to times anon,…
And as he, too, seemed disinclined for chit-chat, we stood for some moments like a couple of Trappist monks who…