Le paradis n'est pas artificiel …

April 22, 2004

canto i.

Jeder ist allein.

This is the beginning, ominous and exciting,

a moment that wraps itself

around the neck softly, arousing

and searching for veins.

I will not insult the integrity of my dismay;

it suits me well in this grey world

as much as that yellow dog bound

to the side of a house I remember

from childhood; for years

he paced

        his grey-brown story

        in a tethered arc

that remained long after hed gone

scrivener, prophet, artist and friend.

This is the first canto in the series as it is now arranged. I finished the eighth of nine end of term projects today. The brain can say no more.

Posted by Delire at April 22, 2004 11:59 AM
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