Five Poems by A.F. Moritz
Simenon
The poem had limped, a witness said, as it had run toward the Gare St.-Lazare. That was enough for Maigret to begin: to trace, track down, finally find the poem, read it with his massiveness still deeper, tenser, quieter, more hidden than the poem’s own. Enough for him to have seen, before he found it, the dinge of its life, a resentful dream somewhere, a cheap ren
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