sport similar, almost human forms, but they're too solid; they lack the ghostly quality of the prints, a necessity for transfiguring [Charles] Simic's many metaphors.
Here's a poem from "Wonders of the Invisible World," a catalog of mysteries and frights:
[by Charles Simic]
Starlings in a Tree at Dusk
from The Boston Globe: Poetically inclined together
also Boston Athenæum: Artist + Poet: George Nama & Charles Simic Exhibition
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