Sevenyearson
Michael Hofmann, 22 September 1994
“... like that accent. Please don’t come slouching near my bed again.’ So, real cool, I growled ‘Lady, no way you’ll walk right over me.’ Dead on. I chucked her then. ‘Waftage: An Irregular Ode’ The language flows as simply as blood from a wound, but how multifarious it is, borrowed and pieced together, now like a ... ”