Tuesday, 8 November 2011

the falling of the sky

bells ring through the fog. a deceptive silence quietening inner noise. a remembrance. how calm the wild sky can be. facts and fictions seep through the surface. hearts are caught in nets and pulled from the river. there are no palms crossed with silver today. skeletal trees resemble dendrites. form a pattern against the dove grey day. behind which the afternoon glows. rubs against me until i shine.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Beautiful! Love "swinging from my collerbone the keepers of names" too...thanks for thee fix..;)