Review: PropagandA

But who are they, tell me, these vagrants, a littlemore fugitive even than us, in their springtimeso urgently wrung by one who - who pleasesa never contented will? So it wrings them,bends them, twists them, swings them,flings them and catches them behind: out of the oil-smoothair they come downonto the flimsy carpet wornby their eternal leaping, this forlorncarpet lost in the universe.Fifth Duino