W A S T E L A N D | broomestreetreview

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T H E B R O O M E S t . R E V I E W
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2017

I comb my sorrows singing; any doomed sailor can hear/ The rising and falling bell and begin to wish/ For home. There is no choice among the voices/ Of love.

Even a carp sings. ~Ruth Stone "The Talking Fish"

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