I always try and sit at the window at this time of the evening when the sun turns all the houses across the road golden and the blackbird is singing his heart out. No photo will ever capture it so instead I have photographed this box which I only actually looked at after I had emptied out my groceries today.
The Dream Songs as Epic.
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As I said back in 2014, John Berryman is one of my favorite American poets,
and I welcome the imminent appearance of Only Sing: 152 Uncollected Dream
Songs...
6 hours ago