TranspositionI.The army of Winter roars like an empty stomachas the wind rattles along the weeds.Women, sheathed in veils of white vertigo,march in single file towards the oceanwith a gaze that lullabies their ghosts, fingertips humming like obsidian birdstrapped in midflight, faint shiverin the distance.II.Daddy, what are these freckles of skyskittering across the lawn? Why are the birds so far away?To those I never know what to sayexcept that the clock's tick has been eating awayat the labyrinth of my senses and my bodyis but a cage to all that I shouldn't be,that the sounds of things and their motionsfrightens me so.
Weeping willowLike a candelabrumthat's been darkenedby the sun it peelsits time away with a colossalhush, each quilllike a candle in the fogas the weight of the worldsprings from its every twig.The reflection of firerepeating itselfupon the leavesand the ravenous rendezvousof its flames like starvingbeasts, flicker after flickerafter flicker, chasesevery breath away.I clench my fist like a belland inhale, each breathburning with the very flameof the next,echoing, echoing, echoing,and with a chill of the flesh,with a haunting howl in the lazy distance,it stops.
ShedThe Pleiades sweat fluorescent dreamsupon the shimmer of an elegant tree,ribboned by the devil's winter coat: Breathe.Birds of summer shade swim along the pathway;airborne and weather-beaten, their reflectionsshiver like fiery windowsills under a setting sun: Sail on, sail on.Sun-stamped and shrivelledby the frost, a flute of golden hymnssings in the distance;A fl
although I must say, it kind of annoys me how grainy it is in certain areas, but it was fairly dark.
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light