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anada386
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.* O . . .. ..O .. 386 30 Jun 2001 ) ( ')
.* O O* o o o o o o o ( / )
* ***O O O O O O O O O \( _)|
* O o o.*..o.*..o.*..o. .net "Before Winter Came Hours" *
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* /,`.-'`' -. ;-;;,_ *
* |,4- ) )-,_..;\ ( `'-' by Mike Shmike *
* '---''(_/--' `-'\_) *mE0w* o
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'Anada is cat-friendly..o*`
at the evenings sunset i retired to folds fettered with petals
the trees bleeding with colored paddles and coins
reflecting pools inside the cupped hands of mud in the earth
reflecting love from the sunlight cutting through thrashing canopy
i retired to the pile of soft inside lucid drunk sighs
inside putrid puffed lies of love
my weary embrace left in the autumn to gather bulbs feathers opium
in the loaning cool
left in the aumtumn and mustve drowned
mustve gotten lost and drowned
in the washing autumn gown
left to collect reflections in the ugly rays of summer
and lost his march in autumn
his bones must have broken
in flowering gown autumn fired over the cascade winter frost
gotten lost in the sea of autumn leaves
in first the ocean of autumn leaves
in the false music of autumn crows
lured by the false music of crows into the thorn blown hatches
and bled all over the poison berries
lured by the cooled music crows
and drowned in the whirlwinding gears of autumn
washing away summer
washed away my embrace with departing footsteps mashed upon petldd mud road
away into the impending winter
to collect spades
and mustve fallen asleep beneath some intoxicating vine
mouth ajar and stained with natural wine
mustve fallen asleep somewhere between here and there
drowned with spilled gold jet hair
in the last ground autumn weaving wash gathering
before winter came hours
before dreams came death
told me at twillight i would succumb to the frail arms from the mud
i ran into the trees already drunk
ran gasping sanguine breath tasting copper on my lungs
ran into the drawing sun looking for laughter in the warm chalice of muddled
youth
ran into the cooling air for the winding arms departed
returning at dusk with broken snapped bones from running
and raggs on torn skin
crows skulking music into my ears full of ice
i fell to my doorstep
spilling rotten flowers from my open scalp
watching the last feathers fall over the open window
grasping the chirping clock that bled like a peach
and sank into grey dreams
sank into overlapping seams
grey drifts and skins filching autumn crows
singing me south away from dreams.
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( o.o ) (c) Anada e'zine anada301 by Mike Shmike o
> ^ < o
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