Poetry. "When you have circled the sun more than eighty times, mourning has become deeply folded into your daily life and memories are apt to make an unexpected appearance. ('I am a child with red ears'). There are many more dots to connect. ('My thoughts / go back to / Jules Ferry Square / where I was given/the secrets of / unhappiness.') And yet, despite the death of many close friends and colleagues, Jim Dine continues to be a purposeful and...
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Poetry