“Where I Forget Myself” WHERE I FORGET MYSELF in you, you become idea, something rustles through both of us: the first world of the last wings, fur grows over my thunderous mouth, you don’t come to. Author: German, Jack Hirschman, Paul Celan “Where I Forget Myself”1996-10-252009-07-17https://ashevillepoetryreview.com/wp-content/uploads/apr_logo-2023-new.svgAsheville Poetry Reviewhttps://ashevillepoetryreview.com/wp-content/uploads/apr_logo-2023-new.svg200px200px