A Black Feather, A poison pen... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- rehearsals for extinct anatomies Wind blowing through, proper february chill in the air, barren tree in the front yard like skeleton fingers grasping at the empty sky. faint touches of green and budding beginning to erupt subtly from beneath the fissures ni the branch bark. like the priests of Xipe Totec in the skin of the sacrifice, the hands and feet layed to the side of the priests hands and feet to symbolize new life bursting forth from old. i should not be surprised if fissures spontaneously tear open from my wrists and ankles and new hands and feet, not my own, spring forth from them 9:20 p.m. - 2003-02-05 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||
|
||||||