Monday, 18 June 2012

If if, if So

























Dark sun going. All at once whispers sound loudly, also. It was customary to dress their rags with cobwebs for lustrous sparkle by starlight.




A wind starts up where trees aren’t standing. Something sharp catches vision & turns it away. They’d mime being piteous in big shoes, & the children, solemn as windmills, would watch until they ceased.





Shiny cloud & silken. Gentle undulatory hill crest, undecided motion sky or land at rest, sky or ground on the move. Often in anger they called a-äaï ä-aäi & listened to slumbering birds answer.





Dark sun rising. Words contain their own eliminations, beat up old van rumbling down a hill. Their lives were an insomniac’s dream of sleep until they slept, also.

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