
The news of ends came mounting the whitest clouds; they showered each time I shivered a cool drizzle as soft as mother’s kiss that got warmer by the moment falling upon me. Each loved one went silently down; bubbles…
Poets don’t allow poems to take an aeroplane; they are afraid of the heights it might take their lines to. They believe that poetry should stand firmly on firm ground. If it flies, it should fly on its…