This poem is taken from Stand 241, 22(1) March - May 2024.
étude 17
beyond the window, we meet, and then,
walk away, every one in every direction, who knows
which way the blood flows, but round and round it goes,
the whirl of the world, the whorl of the ear, as if
the sea were here: how thin the glass through which
...
walk away, every one in every direction, who knows
which way the blood flows, but round and round it goes,
the whirl of the world, the whorl of the ear, as if
the sea were here: how thin the glass through which
...
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