When our falsehoods are divided, What we shall become, One evaporating sigh —W. H. Auden Prospero writes that daylight isn’t moonshine, there in Milan. In coastal Florida the light [...]
A National Journal of Literature & Discussion
When our falsehoods are divided, What we shall become, One evaporating sigh —W. H. Auden Prospero writes that daylight isn’t moonshine, there in Milan. In coastal Florida the light [...]
