Poetry must be new as foam, and as old as the rock.
Poetry must be new as foam, and as old as the rock.
A Barred Owl The warping night-air having brought the boom Of an owl's voice into her darkened room, We tell…
The earth is crammed with heaven and every common bush afire with God, but only those with eyes to see…
Tolkien has become a monster, devoured by his own popularity and absorbed into the absurdity of our time. The chasm…