an image diary

"And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be? ... You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream! If that there King was to wake you'd go out -- bang! -- just like a candle!"

"Hush! You'll be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise."

"Well it's no use your talking about waking him when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."

Sunday, July 16, 2006

. . . . . . .



And three of my poems are featured at MiPoesias.

***

She walked out of her house
And looked around
At all the gardens that looked
Back at her house
(like all the faces
That quiz when you smile...)

And he was standing
At the corner
Where the road turned dark
A part of shiny wet
Like blood the rain fell
Black down on the street

And kissed his feet she fell
Her head an inch away from heaven
And her face pressed tight
And all around the night sang out
Like cockatoos

’there are a thousand things’ he said
’I’ll never say those things to you again’
And turning on his heel
He left a trace of bubbles
Bleeding in his stead

And in her head
A picture of a boy who left her
Lonely in the rain
(and all around the night sang out
Like cockatoos)

***

"and what is the use of a book...without pictures or conversations?"


[contact me: ghostwordeffigy@yahoo.com]

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