meta name="reverberation" content=""Then, what is Life?" I said . . . the cripple cast / His eye upon the car which now had rolled / Onward, as if that look must be the last, / And answered .... "Happy those for whom the fold / Of ... " .glitch { position: relative; } .glitch::after { content: attr(data-text); }


“poetry is prose bewitched, a music made of visual thoughts, the sound of an idea.” — mina loy, from “modern poetry,” 1925, toward the open field: poets on the art of poetry

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