Open Letters Monthly has put chapstick on the sow with a newly remade version of themselves. On their front page right now is a new translation of a Transtromer poem and a revisit with W.S. Merwin’s nastiest, blackened book The Lice.
And once more I remember that the beginning
No wonder the addresses are torn
To which I make my way eating the silence of animals
Offering snow to the darkness
January 5th, 2010 / 12:22 am