quarry raze we fortify our fragile frames with fat and a fuller coat of fur. some ancestral whisper tells us what we need to know to survive this unforgiving season. our bodies change shape to match the bending of our brains. we hide in the hollow boles of trees and traipse across unloved telephone lines, cheating death by staring into its featureless face without flinching. there are darker woods than these and deeper chasms to be bullied into. here the air, gelid and bejewelled, is still good enough for dreaming. 251204 what's it to you? who go blather from