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Faced with the unutterable, words still disintigrate...
And ever new, out of the most quivering stones, music builds her divine house in useless space.
-Rilke
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I am moody.
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[I am not very good at html]
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sometimes i wish... [a blog]
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Saturday, August 17, 2002
[prose-poem time]
underneath, ring out
hard left
the gun
furious
faceless
clutch the knife
waiting
running
waiting
"is it up to me?"
"who else..."
at my heels
shots
she holds her breath
words
drops out
scramble
back home, still on the fry
no more waiting
stand
deliver
fail
shots
halos.
[interpretations welcome at the tag board]
12:14 AM
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