“He is not as young as he used to be. With a groan he chooses a sizable canvas. He broods on it. He wastes his time haggling about his commission with a mean Carmelite monk from the Abruzzi, prior, or canon, or whatnot. It is winter now. His finger joints start cracking like the brushwood in the fire…”— Hans Magnus Enzensberger, apmpodcasts.orgTagged: Poetry, The Slowdown, young, Carmelite, Abruzzi