The Folding of the Wings

<p class=ql-align-justify>There must be ice in a person's life <strong>Frank William Finney</strong> writes in Hitchhiking in the 70s. A Cold Eye ends:</p><p class=ql-align-justify><br></p><p class=ql-align-center><em>your neck's on the rail</em></p><p class=ql-align-center><em>and the train's on time.</em></p><p class=ql-align-justify><br></p><p class=ql-align-justify>Finney's darkly gnomic poems-disturbing and haunting-are compellingly readable. I couldn't put them down and then immediately wanted to read them all again. These are poems I want to keep and live with.</p><p class=ql-align-justify><br></p><p class=ql-align-justify><strong>-Lloyd Schwartz</strong> author of <em>Who's on First? New and Selected Poems </em></p><p class=ql-align-justify><em></em>and Pulitzer Prize-winning critic.</p><p><br></p>