精華區beta poetry 關於我們 聯絡資訊
Heat O wind, rend open the heat, cut apart the heat, rend it to tatters. Fruit cannot drop through this thick air -- fruit cannot fall into heat that presses up and blunts the points of pears and rounds the grapes. Cut the heat -- plough through it, turning it on either side of your path. Hilda Doolittle