User avatar

Quibbons Quill

  • Fantasy Short Stories Re: My Frozen Blood

    Prologue The air hung with the fumes that poured from the factories. A dark world surrounded the people who hurried through the freezing city streets not looking anywhere but forward, ...

    Sep 23, 2008


Poetry is my cheap means of transportation. By the end of the poem the reader should be in a different place from where he started. I would like him to be slightly disoriented at the end, like I drove him outside of town at night and dropped him off in a cornfield.
— Billy Collins