Fleurs du Mal Magazine
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Night In State Street
Art thou he?—
The seer and sage, the hero and lover—yea,
The man of men, then away from the haughty day
Come with me!
Ho—ho! to the night—
The spangled night that would the noon outstare.
Her skirts are fringed with light,
She is girdled and crowned with gems of fire that flare.
The city is dizzy with the thrill of her—
Her shining eyes and shadowy floating hair;
And curious winds her nebulous garments blur,
Blowing her moon-white limbs and bosom bare.
She beckons me—
Down the deep street she goes to keep her tryst.
Come—come—oh follow! oh see
The many-windowed walls uprear so high
They dim and quiver and float away in mist
Tangling the earth and sky.
And the pale stars go by
Like spirits masterful and still and strong,
Dragging the heavy nets of life along.
Down in the deep
Lightly the nets enmesh us with the swarm
Of huddled human things that, soft and warm,
Beat out so close the pulses of their lives.
We crowd and creep,
We jostle and push out of our halls and hives,
We chatter and laugh and weep.
Ah, do you hear
The choral of voices, each the secret hiding?
Do you see the warren of souls, each one abiding
In separate solitude, remote, austere?
Here in the glare of the street we cling together
Against the warning darkness, the still height Of the awful night.
We blow like a feather
From hope to hope along the winds of fate
Importunate.
The lettered lights that twinkle in and out
Lure us and laugh at us, beckon and flout,
Flashing their slangy symbols in our eyes,
Blurting their gaudy lies.
The bold shop-windows flaunt their empty wares—
Jewelled or tinselled shows of things,
The fripperies and furnishings
Wherein stark life will stifle her shiverings
Ere forth in the dawn she fares.
Ah, tyranny perilous!
Vain shows that master us!
See the gay girls fluttering wistfully,
Where waxen dummies grin in gowns of lace.
Watch yonder woman in black, whose dimmed eyes see
Soft baby things folded with tender grace.
And look at the children crowding and shouting there
Where dancing dolls jiggle and jerk and stare.
They hover and cling
Possessed by signs and shadows of the thing.
They moor their bark
Close to the shore and fathom not the dark—
The dark that glooms afar
Beyond the invisible star,
Beyond faith’s boundaries,
The plausible was and is.
Come, ye adventurous,
Open your hearts to us!
You tiny newsboy, calling extras there,
Pitiful burden-bearer, pale with blight,
What of the night?—
The sullen night that brings you, little one,
So heavy a load of care,
While happier children sleep from sun to sun?
And you, wan youth, haggard and spent,
By mad thirst driven and rent—
Thirst of the body, thirst of the soul—
To what dark goal
Does reeling night lead you, her listless prey,
To gorge you and slay,
And hide forever from the searching day?
And you, furtive and flaunting girl,
Whose heavy-lidded eyes unfurl
Red signal fires, the while, demure,
Your brooding lips deny their lure—
Ah, does the lewd night lash you to her cave,
And will you never her ribald rage out-brave,
And rise no more forlorn
To greet the morn?
The street grows insolent.
With cries of dark delight
And gestures impudent
It rends the robe of night.
Up to the silent sky
It shouts the human cry.
The crowds push in and out
By all the open ways,
Eager to stare and shout
At vaudeville waifs of plays.
They drop their coins and laugh
At the wheezy phonograph,
They hush for the noisy drone
Of the croaking megaphone.
That litters life with jest
They pause that they may not go
On life’s eternal quest.
They stifle truth with speech,
They mimic love with lust,
For the glitter of gilt they reach
And cover the gold with dust.
They stoop to the din and glare
Who have the lofty night for comrade rare.
They grope along the ground
Whose stature like the night with stars is crowned.
Oh piteous!
Oh struggle vain!
Of puppets emulous,
We strive and strain
To forge for our limbs a chain.
Come, thou deep-hearted Night, so dark and bright !
Come, holy Night, come, lawless, dissolute Night!
Come, human Night, hushing thy dreams divine!
Give me thy dreams, O Night—they shall be mine!—
Mine and this beggar’s, though we lie to thee!
Mine and this harlot’s, though from thee we
flee! Mine and this worldling’s, though with might and right
We hide them from our sight.
Thy shadowed eyes the truth behold, and we—
We too shall know the truth, and so be free!
Even now—yea, now
Through lies and vanities we pry and peer.
Even now we bow
At little shrines where pale fires flicker and fleer.
Hark! in the echoing street
The drums that bang and beat,
Where the curb-stone preachers tell
The way to heaven and hell.
Look! in yon window there
A man through a glass astare
At atoms and embryos,
The source whence all life flows.
Search the beginning and end.
We may not choose but follow—
Yes, you and I and these—
The fume of the noisome hollow,
The gleam of the Pleiades.
Wherever one goes in quest
With his quest we are cursed or blest.
And the street, with its blazing mockery of
noon, Leads on to the quiet stars, to the lofty moon.
The little lights go out now row on row,
The dim crowds glide away.
The shadowed street
Pillars the vaulted sky.
And Night, proud Night,
Rapt in her dreams, with stately tread and slow
Patrols the drowsy world. O friend complete,
How may we read her deep delight aright?
Art thou he—
The seer and sage, the hero and lover—yea,
The man of men, then even to the gates of day
Lead thou me!
Harriet Monroe
(1860 – 1936)
Night In State Street
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More in: Archive M-N, LITERARY MAGAZINES, Monroe, Harriet
“Il fallait bien qu’un jour je croise la route de Lady Chatterley. J’ai fait mieux, je suis tombée amoureuse de celui qui l’imagina, D. H. Lawrence, à cause de sa figure de mauvais coucheur, à cause de l’extraordinaire sensibilité de son “écriture androgyne” dont parlait Anaïs Nin.
Pendant deux ans, je n’ai pas quitté cet amateur des grands espaces qui, lorsqu’il écrivait, ne s’est jamais encombré des barrières du surmoi. J’ai voulu faire redécouvrir cet auteur célèbre qui n’est plus assez lu, contemporain des suffragettes, et qui vécut entouré de femmes libres. Il avait compris qu’au vortex de leur émancipation et de leurs revendications se trouvait le plein accomplissement de leur jouissance sexuelle.” Catherine Millet.
Catherine Millet
Aimer Lawrence
Paru le 20/09/2017
Genre: Essais littéraires
304 pages
138 x 210 mm
Broché
ISBN-10: 2081372614
ISBN-13: 978-2081372610
€21,00
Editeur : Flammarion
Langue : Français
new books
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More in: - Book Stories, Archive K-L, Archive M-N, D.H. Lawrence, Erotic literature, Lawrence, D.H.
No Platonic Love
Tell me no more of minds embracing minds,
And hearts exchang’d for hearts;
That spirits spirits meet, as winds do winds,
And mix their subt’lest parts;
That two unbodied essences may kiss,
And then like Angels, twist and feel one Bliss.
I was that silly thing that once was wrought
To practise this thin love;
I climb’d from sex to soul, from soul to thought;
But thinking there to move,
Headlong I rolled from thought to soul, and then
From soul I lighted at the sex again.
As some strict down-looked men pretend to fast,
Who yet in closets eat;
So lovers who profess they spririts taste,
Feed yet on grosser meat;
I know they boast they souls to souls convey,
Howe’r they meet, the body is the way.
Come, I will undeceive thee, they that tread
Those vain aerial ways
Are like young heirs and alchemists misled
To waste their wealth and days,
For searching thus to be for ever rich,
They only find a med’cine for the itch.
William Cartwright
(1611-1643)
No Platonic Love
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More in: Archive C-D, Archive C-D, CLASSIC POETRY
Out now:
Kerouac on Record ◊ A Literary Soundtrack
Edited by Simon Warner and Jim Sampas
Co-edited by Jack Kerouac’s nephew, including pieces written by Kerouac himself as well as interviews from major literary and musical figures including Allen Ginsberg, Lee Konitz and David Amram, Kerouac on Record gives a unique insight into how Kerouac brought his passion for jazz to his full creative output.
Kerouac on Record is the touchstone for the music of Kerouac – Kerouac’s love for music, the depth of its influence on his work, and the influence that his work continues to extend to waves of contemporary musicians, from David Bowie and Janis Joplin to Sonic Youth. It is a book rife with the work of cultural icons, essential for any fan of the Beat Generation and popular music alike.
About Kerouac on Record
He was the leading light of the Beat Generation writers and the most dynamic author of his time, but Jack Kerouac also had a lifelong passion for music, particularly the mid-century jazz of New York City, the development of which he witnessed first-hand during the 1940s with Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie and Thelonious Monk to the fore.
The novelist, most famous for his 1957 book On the Road, admired the sounds of bebop and attempted to bring something of their original energy to his own writing, a torrent of semi-autobiographical stories he published between 1950 and his early death in 1969.
Yet he was also drawn to American popular music of all kinds – from the blues to Broadway ballads – and when he came to record albums under his own name, he married his unique spoken word style with some of the most talented musicians on the scene.
Kerouac’s musical legacy goes well beyond the studio recordings he made himself: his influence infused generations of music makers who followed in his work – from singer-songwriters to rock bands.
Some of the greatest transatlantic names – Bob Dylan and the Grateful Dead, Van Morrison and David Bowie, Janis Joplin and Tom Waits, Sonic Youth and Death Cab for Cutie, and many more – credited Kerouac’s impact on their output.
In Kerouac on Record, we consider how the writer brought his passion for jazz to his prose and poetry, his own record releases, the ways his legacy has been sustained by numerous more recent talents, those rock tributes that have kept his memory alive and some of the scores that have featured in Hollywood adaptations of the adventures he brought to the printed page.
1. Jack Kerouac’s Jazz Scene Jim Burns – 2. 2nd Chorus: Blues: Jack Kerouac Larry Beckett – 3. Duet for Saxophone and Pen: Lee Konitz and the Direct Influence of Jazz on the Development of Jack Kerouac’s ‘Spontaneous Prose’ Style Marian Jago Interview 1: Lee Konitz Marian Jago – 4. Jack Kerouac Goes Vinyl: A Sonic Journey into Kerouac’s Three LPs: Poetry for the Beat Generation; Blues and Haikus; and Readings by Jack Kerouac on the Beat Generation Jonah Raskin – 5. Art Music: Listening to Kerouac’s ‘Mexico City Blues’ A. Robert Lee Interview 2: David Amram Pat Thomas – 6. Beat Refrains: Music, Milieu and Identity in Jack Kerouac’s The Subterraneans, the Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Film Adaptation Michael Prince – 7. Bob Dylan’s Beat Visions (Sonic Poetry) Michael Goldberg – 8. Carrying a Torch for Ti Jean Paul Marion Interview 3: Richard Meltzer Michael Goldberg – 9. The Grateful Dead: Jack Manifested as Music Brian Hassett – 10. Driver Mark Bliesener – 11. Jim Morrison/Angel of Fire Jay Jeff Jones – 12. Light is Faster than Sound: Texans, the Beats and the San Francisco Counterculture Holly George-Warren – 13. Hit the Road, Jack: Van Morrison and On the Road Peter Mills – 14. Detecting Jack Kerouac and Joni Mitchell: A Literary/Legal (Not Musicological) Investigation into the Search for Influence Nancy Grace – 15. Kerouac and Country Music Matt Theado – 16. ‘Straight from the Mind to the Voice’: Spectral Persistence in Jack Kerouac and Tom Waits Douglas Field Interview 4: Barney Hoskyns Simon Warner – 17. From Beat Bop Prosody to Punk Rock Poetry: Patti Smith and Jack Kerouac; Literature, Lineage, Legacy Ronna Johnson Poems: Marc Zegans Interview 6: Allen Ginsberg Pat Thomas – 18. Tramps Like Them: Jack and Bruce and the Myth of the American Road Simon Morrison Interview 5: Graham Parker Pat Thomas – 19. Punk and New Wave James Sullivan – Interview 7: Jim DeRogatis on Lester Bangs James Sullivan – 20. The Tribute Recordings Jim Sampas and Simon Warner – Jack Kerouac Biography – Jack Kerouac Discography Dave Moore – Tribute Discography – Kerouac/Cassady Song List Dave Moore/Horst Spandler
Simon Warner
is a journalist, lecturer and broadcaster who teaches Popular Music Studies at the University of Leeds in the UK. He has, over a number of years, written live reviews and counterculture obituaries for The Guardian and The Independent, and has a particular interest in the relationship between the Beat Generation writers–Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, William Burroughs and others–and rock culture. His previous books include Rockspeak: The Language of Rock and Pop (1996) and Howl for Now: A Celebration of Allen Ginsberg’s epic protest poem (2005). – Writes: Popular Music, North American Literature – Author of : Kerouac on Record, Text and Drugs and Rock ‘n’ Roll
Jim Sampas
is a music and film producer. His musical works often focuses on major cultural figures such Jack Kerouac (who is his Uncle), The Beatles, Bruce Springsteen, The Smiths, Bob Dylan, and The Rolling Stones. He has persuaded a galaxy of stars to partake of a unique aesthetic marriage, as vintage works are resurrected in contemporary arrangements in projects covered by such major news outlets as People Magazine, NPR, The New York Times, Entertainment Weekly, Rolling Stone, and many others. – Writes: Popular Music, North American Literature – Author of: Kerouac on Record
Following Text and Drugs and Rock ‘n’ Roll: The Beats and Rock Culture (2013), Simon Warner partners with Literary Executor of the Estate of Jack Kerouac, Jim Sampas, to go deeper into his exploration of the connections between the great figures of the Beat generation and the music of the so-called ‘rock era.’ Interspersed with exclusive interviews of the likes of Lee Konitz, Graham Parker, Lester Bangs, and Allen Ginsberg, the twenty chapters are signed by an impressive array of journalists, music industry professionals, rock critics, writers, film makers and academics from all over the world. Addressing such issues as the influence of jazz on Kerouac’s ‘spontaneous prose’ style, the lineage between his ‘Beat bop prosody’ and Patti Smith‘s ‘punk rock poetry,’ or his inspiring ‘the myth of the American road’ in Bruce Springsteen’s lyrics, they shed light on what appears to be a two-way relationship between popular music and the work of the author of On the Road. As Warner puts it: ‘if, for Kerouac, it was jazz that would have the principal impact, then it was rock on which the writer would have the main effect.’” – Olivier Julien, Lecturer in the History and Musicology of Popular Music, Paris-Sorbonne University, France
Kerouac on Record
A Literary Soundtrack
By: Simon Warner, Jim Sampas
Published: 08-03-2018
Format: Hardback
Edition: 1st
Extent: 480
ISBN: 9781501323348
Imprint: Bloomsbury Academic
Dimensions: 229 x 152 mm
RRP: £28.00
Kerouac on Record
A Literary Soundtrack
fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: # Music Archive, #Beat Generation Archives, - Book Stories, Archive G-H, Archive G-H, Archive K-L, Archive K-L, Art & Literature News, AUDIO, CINEMA, RADIO & TV, Bob Dylan, Dylan, Bob, Ginsberg, Allen, Jim Morrison, Joni Mitchell, Kerouac, Jack, Patti Smith
Sibelius
Sibelius symphony number eight
On his lips he sounded natures
cry, natures sinewy sigh
and gripped in encapsulation
its voices in dots and dashes.
His work swept the oceans
searching for ringing melodies,
the cosmos dancing in rhythm
through its internal magnetism.
Sounds from the milky way
readily formed within him,
carbon from the core twinkling,
vibrating, the many strings flying
in rich tones, in its resurrection
when death looked imminent
awoke when barely conscious.
He took the new and ancient
and slanted the nucleus
of his vivid expression
into the pool of swirling
existence.
And when the structure
was created,
when the monument was built,
the music gasping for
the air of existence,
for the universe to burst
he burnt the lot
and fell inward, into silence,
where his voice lived only
for his wife and children.
He sat down quietly
and never again lifted
his psyche to varnish sound
with brilliant shimmers.
21.09.07
Vincent Berquez
Poem: Sibelius
Vincent Berquez is a London–based artist and poet
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More in: Archive A-B, Berquez, Vincent, MUSIC, Vincent Berquez
To the President of Magdalen College, Oxford
Since now from woodland mist and flooded clay
I am fled beside the steep Devonian shore,
Nor stand for welcome at your gothic door,
‘Neath the fair tower of Magdalen and May,
Such tribute, Warren, as fond poets pay
For generous esteem, I write, not more
Enhearten’d than my need is, reckoning o’er
My life-long wanderings on the heavenly way:
But well-befriended we become good friends,
Well-honour’d honourable; and all attain
Somewhat by fathering what fortune sends.
I bid your presidency a long reign,
True friend; and may your praise to greater ends
Aid better men than I, nor me in vain.
Robert Bridges
(1844-1930)
To the President of Magdalen College, Oxford
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More in: *War Poetry Archive, Archive A-B, Bridges, Robert, WAR & PEACE
‘En toch is alles wat we doen natuur’ bevat de mooiste natuurgedichten van dichter-tekenaar-bioloog Leo Vroman.
Vroman was gefascineerd door het leven in en rondom ons, dat hij tot in de wonderbaarlijkste details observeerde en beschreef.
Tientallen bundels speelse poëzie schreef hij, een onuitputtelijke stroom gedichten van 1946 tot 2014, het jaar van zijn overlijden.
Mirjam van Hengel (auteur van het succesvolle Hoe mooi alles, over Leo en Tineke Vroman) maakte een nieuwe, ruime selectie uit de gedichten die Vroman schreef over de natuur – die van mensen, die van gras, bloemen en bomen, van orkanen en organen en van alle mogelijke dieren.
Leo Vroman (1915-2014) was dichter, prozaïst, essayist, illustrator en hematoloog. Hij studeerde biologie in Utrecht en vluchtte in 1940 naar Nederlands-Indië. In 1945 werd hij uit Japanse gevangenschap bevrijd en vestigde zich in Verenigde Staten, samen met zijn vrouw Tineke. Vroman debuteerde in 1946 met de bundel Gedichten. Vroman ontving in de loop van zijn leven zowat alle belangrijke literaire prijzen die er zijn. In 2006 verscheen het dagboek Misschien tot morgen.
En toch is alles wat we doen natuur
De mooiste gedichten over het leven in en rondom ons
Auteur: Leo Vroman
Redactie: Mirjam van Hengel
Uitgeverij: Querido
Hardcover
Taal: Nederlands
Afmetingen: 31x223x142 mm
Gewicht:481,00 gram
Verschijningsdatum: 6 maart 2018
Druk 1
ISBN10 902140902X
ISBN13 9789021409023
Prijs: € 24,99
# Voor meer informatie ga naar de website: www.vromanfoundation.com
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More in: Archive U-V, Archive U-V, Art & Literature News, Natural history, Vroman, Leo
Love Came to Us
Love came to us in time gone by
When one at twilight shyly played
And one in fear was standing nigh — –
For Love at first is all afraid.
We were grave lovers. Love is past
That had his sweet hours many a one;
Welcome to us now at the last
The ways that we shall go upon.
James Joyce
(1882-1941)
Love Came to Us
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Life
Life! I know not what thou art,
But know that thou and I must part;
And when, or how, or where we met,
I own to me ‘s a secret yet.
But this I know, when thou art fled,
Where’er they lay these limbs, this head,
No clod so valueless shall be
As all that then remains of me.
O whither, whither dost thou fly?
Where bend unseen thy trackless course?
And in this strange divorce,
Ah, tell where I must seek this compound I?
To the vast ocean of empyreal flame
From whence thy essence came
Dost thou thy flight pursue, when freed
From matter’s base encumbering weed?
Or dost thou, hid from sight,
Wait, like some spell-bound knight,
Through blank oblivious years th’ appointed hour
To break thy trance and reassume thy power?
Yet canst thou without thought or feeling be?
O say, what art thou, when no more thou’rt thee?
Life! we have been long together,
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;
‘Tis hard to part when friends are dear;
Perhaps ’twill cost a sigh, a tear;–
Then steal away, give little warning,
Choose thine own time;
Say not Good-night, but in some brighter clime
Bid me Good-morning!
Anna Laetitia Barbauld
(1743-1825)
Life
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More in: Archive A-B, Archive A-B, CLASSIC POETRY
Du
Du. Ich will dich in den Wassern wecken!
Du. Ich will dich aus den Sternen schweißen!
Du. Ich will dich von dem Irdnen lecken,
Eine Hündin! Dich aus Früchten beißen,
Eine Wilde! Du. Ich will so vieles –
Liebes. Liebstes. Kannst du dich nicht spenden?
Nicht am Ende des Levkojenstieles
Deine weiße Blüte zu mir wenden?
Sieh, ich ging so oft auf harten Wegen,
Auf verpflastert harten, bösen Straßen;
Ich verdarb, verblich an Glut und Regen,
Schluchzend, stammelnd: “. . . über alle Maßen . . .”
Und die Pauke und das Blasrohr lärmten,
Und ich kam mit einer goldnen Kette,
Tanzte unter Lichtern, die mich wärmten,
Schönen Lichtern auf der Schädelstätte.
Und ich möchte wohl in Gärten sitzen,
Auch den Wein wohl trinken aus der Kelter,
Doch die Lider klafften, trübe Ritzen,
Und ich ward in Augenblicken älter.
Und auf meinen Leichnam hingekrochen
Ist die Schnecke träger Arbeitstage,
Zog den Schleimpfad dünner grauer Wochen,
Schlaffer Freude und geringer Plage.
In den Wäldern bin ich umgetrieben.
Ich verriet den Vögeln deinen Namen,
Doch die Vögel sind mir ferngeblieben;
Wenn ich weinte, zirpte keiner: Amen.
Und die Scheckenkühe an den Rainen
Grasten fort mit seltnem Häupterheben.
Da entfloh ich wieder zu den Steinen,
Die mir dieses Kind, mein Kind nicht geben.
Einmal muß ich noch im Finstren kauern
Und das Göttliche zu mir versammeln,
Es beschwören durch getünchte Mauern,
Seinem Ausgang meine Tür verrammeln,
Bis zum bunten Morgen mit ihm ringen.
Ach, es wird den Segen nimmer sprechen,
Nur mit seinem Schlag der erznen Schwingen
Diese flehnde Stirn in Stücke brechen…
Gertrud Kolmar
(1894-1943)
gedicht: Du
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Joachim Ringelnatz
Seepferdchen
Als ich noch ein Seepferdchen war,
Im vorigen Leben,
Wie war das wonnig, wunderbar,
Unter Wasser zu schweben.
In den träumenden Fluten
Wogte, wie Güte, das Haar
Der zierlichsten aller Seestuten,
Die meine Geliebte war.
Wir senkten uns still oder stiegen,
Tanzten harmonisch umeinand,
Ohne Arm, ohne Bein, ohne Hand,
Die Wolken sich in Wolken wiegen.
Sie spielte manchmal graziöses Entfliehn,
Auf daß ich ihr folge, sie hasche,
Und legte mir einmal im Ansichziehn
Eierchen in die Tasche.
Sie blickte traurig und stellte sich froh,
Schnappte nach einem Wasserfloh
Und ringelte sich
An einem Stengelchen fest und sprach so:
Ich liebe dich!
Du wieherst nicht, du äpfelst nicht,
Du trägst ein farbloses Panzerkleid
Und hast ein bekümmertes altes Gesicht,
Als wüßtest du um kommendes Leid.
Seestütchen! Schnörkelchen! Ringelnaß!
Wann war wohl das?
Und wer bedauert wohl später meine restlichen Knochen?
Es ist beinahe so, daß ich weine –
Lollo hat das vertrocknete, kleine
Schmerzverkrümmte Seepferd zerbrochen.
Joachim Ringelnatz
(1883 – 1934)
Seepferdchen
fleursdumal.nl magazine
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Liu Xia, China, is a poet, artist, and founding member of the Independent Chinese PEN Centre. Xia has been held under unofficial house arrest in her Beijing apartment since her late husband, the poet Liu Xiaobo, was named the winner of the Nobel Peace Prize in October 2010.
For seven years, Liu Xia (1961) was held in her apartment without access to phones, internet, doctors of her choice, or visitors. Following the death of her husband in July 2017 and the expression of concern for her wellbeing, Xia appeared in a video in which she asked to be left alone to mourn – it is thought that she may have done this at the behest of the authorities.
The Independent PEN Centre (ICPC) report that the restrictions applied against Liu Xia have relaxed somewhat; she has access to a telephone and is allowed to leave her home, but is under constant surveillance. Colleagues at ICPC report that Liu Xia has been removed from Beijing for the duration of the National People’s Congress; it is expected that she will be returned to her Beijing home after this date.
There are reports that Liu Xia’s mental and physical health continue to suffer due to her detention.
PEN International believes that the ongoing, extra-judicial house arrest of Liu Xia is a form of punishment for the human rights work carried out by her husband, Liu Xiaobo, and is extremely concerned for her physical and psychological integrity.
Please take action for Liu Xia.
# More information and how to act, see website PEN UK
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More in: Archive W-X, Archive W-X, Art & Literature News, EDITOR'S CHOICE, REPRESSION OF WRITERS, JOURNALISTS & ARTISTS
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