Transtromer
Calling Home
Our phone call spilled out into the dark
and glittered between the countryside and the town
like the mess of a knife-fight.
Afterwards, all night jittery and spent in the hotel bed,
I dreamt I was the needle in a compass
some orienteer bore through the forest with a spinning heart.
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Benjamin on the Novel vs Storytelling- Information - the novel-information as debased
From the storyteller: [this was written in the 1930s, amazing] Every morning, news reaches us, from around the globe. And yet we lack rem...