Reject Ambiguity, Embrace Action
Why is that no matter how passionately I feel about writing a novel, my inhibitions convince me I would sooner walk from Toronto to Montreal than…
“Marble Hands” and “Bacchante”
Marble Hands I saw heavy clouds hide the sun's infinite glare. Rude melancholies wound Apollo’s bow. Like mist from a cauldron, they fill the air,…
