“It is always a poet's winter.” Winter Blues Book:Squandering the Blue: Stories Source: Squandering the Blue: Stories
“Suddenly she wants to fall to her knees and pray for the poets. She imagines them with immaculate ravaged faces, with necklaces of ransacked moons, with teeth which are black stubs. Poets are collections of unused crescents and bandages, confused images and terrible departing.” Winter Blues Book:Squandering the Blue: Stories Source: Squandering the Blue: Stories
