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In this new volume, Pulitzer Prize-winning Charles Simic fills the wee hours of his poetry with angels and pigs, riddles and cemeteries. With empty offices and dolls that smile. With the sound of bare feet upstairs and a single kiss before the shadows converge. His is a rich, haunted world of East European memory and American present. It is a world of his own creation, one always full of luminous surprise.
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In this volume, Simic fills the wee hours of his poetry with angels and pigs, riddles and cemeteries. His is a rich, haunted world of East European memory and american present-a world of his own creation, one always full of luminous surprise. “Simic writes so simply that his words fall like drops of water, but they ripple outward to evoke an ominous and numinous world” (Washington Post Book World).
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