Wednesday, January 26, 2011

My Wife Makes Me Wear Girdles

Wind light came

.





The light came in through the eye of the cathedral, she spun the time and forgotten oaths. So she sat and broke bread. Then, she knitted the crumb with wine, the sky is born sweater in his hands. She took a pearl ebony clouds to offer that up there in heaven pin on their faces, images that children color the tips of the eyes, and reinvent endless round a mirage.


The birds go by and shout, they are far in the world. They rub their wings large patches of sky, they derive from their nozzles cover the earth. Azure Fabrics and shade, draperies and light sensitive than men lacerate their filthy claws. They mourn and grieve in their child down, they say
"all fled every second, right as I speak all this is over"

Night moved away on the roads yesterday, we hear that trembles in the riverbeds. Her veil of black crape whisper, whisper sweet secrets lurk in the Muses the wave. It envelops the heart of soot big wrecks, heart of souls gray at the edge of vertigo. The day her young lover kisses her eyelids so that she falls asleep alone on the other side of the world.

Light is fragile, it enters the heart of age, small grains of sun plaguing the banks. Life is far away, where others are dying, where as others breathe touches the sky, as you scratch the latter clinging to the skin ungrateful faces, mischievous and sneak under the closed eyelids.



(Painting: Cathedral / Yahne The Toumelin )

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