LATE OCTOBER I am rain-tranced, fed with sleep. Out on the back roads where the wind slumps down on gravel the old year goes inside out and cries its bones away. Are you on those roads? When the wind blows cold does it blow your way?
LATE OCTOBER I am rain-tranced, fed with sleep. Out on the back roads where the wind slumps down on gravel the old year goes inside out and cries its bones away. Are you on those roads? When the wind blows cold does it blow your way?