Poems Rethabile Likes

When? by Albino Pierro | Poems Rethabile Likes When? by Albino Pierro And yet I feel content and don't get tired of slashing with my fingers through the air, tarantella-like. The hands have the power of a stone that hisses in a fury once it's thrown and crashes into a wall, but they instead are sharply pointed hammers that want to dig to find a voice or spark within the dark. Ah, these madmen, these madmen that gnaw on stones like sugar; By the armful, I know, they should be flung into ravines, hissing, hissing; but maybe more stubbo...