Sir:
In your Winter ’44 issue, Arthur Mizener speaks of
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Two Poems
By Robert Horan
I. On the pink and pigeoned beach fails the amaranthine sea. The balconies of memory are washed away like lace. Underneath the water's stations, hung like toys in fluid worlds, […]
Twenty-One Years
By Robert Horan
Came with wind and warning this morning the first birds. Came sun polishing the crucifix-insect where he paused dew-instant. I beheld here and there spiders going in grass to a […]
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