Language
when my mother died so did our language the one we spoke each day at the kitchen table…
when my mother died so did our language the one we spoke each day at the kitchen table…
quando e` morta mia mamma e` morta anche la nostra lingua quella che parlavamo ogni…
I walked the beach where Mario Ruoppolo recorded metaphors for Neruda. I put my feet in…
I keep hoping, one day to walk into a Chapters book store and run smack into a display of…
the old men have nowhere to go banished like corroded barges in some abandoned port they…