BETA

Articles by William Hall

After Hölderlin

When all the light is gone from Our final autumn practice We call it a day. Those comely joggers, On coach’s dismissal, Dress fast, and run To make it...

At the albatross

Dispelling with some metaphors with professorial sonority My old ethicist professor beckons—“that wooden guardian of our privacy Upon its axel swiftly turn!” to the late student so that is...