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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