As I’ve told my wife too many times, the meaning of any poem hides in the marriage of cadence and sound. Vowels on a carousel, consonants on a calliope, whistles and bells, we need them all tickling our ears. Otherwise, the lines are gristle and fat, no meat. Is it any wonder, then, my wife …
Kaleidoscope and Harpsichord | Donal Mahoney Read More »
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