And she who is born,
she who sings and cries,
she who begins the passage, her hair
sprouting out,
her gums budding for her first spring on earth,
the mist still clinging about
her face, puts
her hand
into her father's mouth, to take hold of
his song.
—Galway Kinnell The Book of Nightmares
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
I'm a lost writer
I've got an article up at Lost Writers. I'll be writing for them every other tuesday, I think.
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