A wooden door in front of everything. A door on my country. A door in the lake. My poems prefer wooden hunting dogs. If I say there is a door on my heart in the poem, then there is. Now I can open …
From the Collection Tree of Knowledge
A wooden door in front of everything. A door
on my country. A door in the lake. My poemsArticle continues after advertisement
prefer wooden hunting dogs. If I say there is a
door on my heart in the poem, then there is.
Translator Hemang Ashwinkumar writes that the memoir helped him ‘reclaim a lost home … from the fog of neofascist irrationality,…
So, I thought, as the door was unlocked and the landlord disappeared (no, he actually disappeared) and I got to examine the room…
An atheist’s complaint at the scant room made by the church for his personal commemoration of the dead
A poem by Leonie Hanan, age 18, Co Down
A poem by Leonie Hanan, age 18, Co Down
A journey through a visionary landscape, exceptionally bright in icy weather, conjures a surreal semi-mythical world
