behind swift
shadows of deer
where the moon was a
delicate shade of oil
hanging from a bare
branch amongst
the gunpowder
the way she
carried herself in
a witchy twitchy
sort of way
melon glace
on a froth of
its own
spirit level
singing in a jar
over cracked ice
a translucent caisson
30.11.07. / 20.02.08.
miscellaneous 1
the first star
makes its debut
on the palette
hips in style
bearing herself up
balances a tray the
stylus etched on
her nerves
locked in sway
each movement
corresponded like an
invisible programme
pulls a handkerchief
from a black hole
push me pull me
she walks on singing
her moans to the tree
6.01.08. / 9.02.08.
the harpie Nic and cloud clockwork and bisto are not welcome to read my blog or use me in any way , there are thoughts in your own head huns
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