Sunday, October 03, 2010

The long year.



New form, started all over again, new play
mastermind english rose or violet at war
head in a silver tray, hair in wash basin
slaughters on mornings, no names no date.

Letters announced in muted horns. These days.
This day, still beautiful when something breaks
My maudlin lexicon you know oh so well, see
starts over again, like a weird and simple pleasure.

Of you, for you, reincarnated cradle tongue
everyday things like cigarettes or the long lost
art of tipping accordingly. things of urgency
all the gold hidden behind cellar doors.

The hour between the time of obstructed sight
and waking up as kittens, that is milk that is
honey. A company of horses, your banner mine
all the books in Latin, a thimble of cinnabar.

Horizontal snow blowing upon acorns sweet
smell of smoke, not so far he proved it, bombs
at least we're still alive. At least we're still alive
and bottles washed against our throats of thunder

These guarded truths for a long time yet
no memory of it either, watching the wind
and fate, what is there to say about the future
exempt, sometimes arrives late other times fair.