| Popis: |
Perhaps I met Thomas McGrath somewhere in Nicaragua at a time when the blackbird’s menacing thunder sounded over our heads: the blackbird flying invisible in the heavens, which alone guard our dreams and the dreams of men and women like him, on the other side of the trenches. I don’t recall his appearance, but I immediately recognized his essence as a poet, his true presence, one afternoon in September 1990 at Alice’s house in Ventura—his Selected Poems shining like a blue jewel in the sunlit... |
