‘Which path are you going to take,’ asked the wolf, ‘the path of needles or the path of pins?’ — “The Story of Grandmother,”
Mornings I listen to the thonk, thonk, thonk of the woodcutter’s axe, his labor a depletion of my world. Yes, he’s brawny— he can
The stag’s heart spoke (as it passed through my throat) of desire. I’ve held the strangest of strangers. To swallow, the quickest way to