A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
Italians have now been at home for nine days, and, from Bologna to Rome, they have invited their neighbors to engage in what they call a “Flash Mob Sonoro,” or a sound flash mob.
And now only his voice remains
as it cries through the needle scratch.
Across decades, that voice has entered
our voices: our style, our common despair.
Now with great ease, and slow,
The thumb, the finger, the strong
Delicate hand plucks the long
String it was born to know.
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