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Happy Bloomsday! Plus New Poetry

Happy Bloomsday! Plus New Poetry

Nothing was as it seemed, when Van Gogh painted it. Roiling underneath the subject, flying above it, surrounding it, were his passions, his intensity, his flights into realms most of us could only guess at, if we can match him for moral imagination, or imagination period. With Van Gogh, a rose was not a rose was not a rose. Ray Succre writes poetry along these same lines, or conjunctions, or coincidences, with a mask or two thrown in for good…

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