" As their heart grew cold, they let their wings down." -Sappho-
The ideation of the company was the moment of realization of a poet, that all that his mind is worth could never be explained in meter and rhyme. That the transition from rhyme to open verse is not an alternate avenue of pursuit, but a stark mean to coherence. That perhaps Michaelangelo would have had more of a mind for Beelzebub, than had Milton. That get going Dante. They all saw hell. That Keurac never meant to be simple. That the hundred years of Marquez is only the flick of a switch. That yes man Rushdie, the market is in overindulgence in the trade. That whisky always lies, yet is a legitimate cure, much like morphine. That the effort put down on the page means nothing even to the sore shoulders. We would rather tell a lie, for a reasoned alibi.
The stuff of iron ore, we are Verses Inked©