Cold now. Close to the edge. Almost unbearable. Clouds bunch up and boil down from the north of the white bear. This tree-splitting morning I dream of his fat tracks, the lifesaving suet. I think of summer with its luminous…
Cold now. Close to the edge. Almost unbearable. Clouds bunch up and boil down from the north of the white bear. This tree-splitting morning I dream of his fat tracks, the lifesaving suet. I think of summer with its luminous…
This is a repost from November 2, 2010 We have not even to risk the adventure alone/ for the heroes of all time have gone before us /The labyrinth is thoroughly known/ We have only to follow the thread of…