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Two Ways of Wind and Knowing *


We knew the wind
as it was intimate to our daily life.
Twilight wind in autumn,
time to eat, put on a sweater,
and the turning toward winter and night.

Wind as we rounded the last turn before our house
as it gathered speed and coldness and tightening
up the hill, and met our skin,
and we turned our faces to it, its intoxicating
bursts of deaf sound making instruments of our ears,

one of us shining the flashlight
down ahead, back and forth, left and right
on our way home.

Tryfon Tolides


* From the editor' s desk

No mere intertextuality here, only the "ground" COHERENCES à la Eliot
("Tradition and the Individual Talent," 1919) and Auden ("Criticism in a
Mass Society," 1939). The legato phrasing ? enjambment it used to be called  in   
"  . . . turning toward winter and night
Wind as we rounded the last turn before our house . . ."
                               ("Two Ways of Wind and Knowing")
reminds us that the hymns chanted in the Greek church are called "oikoi,"
houses, that is, made of sound and movement, meditation and praise.