- Bliv medlem
-
Log ind
Du er ikke logget ind
Log ind Opret dig - Kurv
Du er ikke logget ind
Beskrivelse
Written almost in a trance, Evan Fowler's poems dwell on imponderable questions. How do you quieten a ghost you don't believe in? What lies north of North? Where is the hand that once guided me? Their sense of bewilderment and loss expresses the trauma of dislocation, as if home had always only been a dream.
