No past tense permitted —Kay Boyle, “A Poem for Samuel Beckett” Darlings, this may be the only great escape we’ll ever make: go forward
… you are back to where you are, utterly. —Max Frisch A basement bar is closing up— people climbing the steps into streetlight pink.
Paul Robeson stood on the northern border of the USA and sang into Canada where a vast audience sat on folding chairs waiting to