Wednesday, March 14, 2007
He comes across the granite yard,
Grizzled feather glint in his black wings.
He strokes the tree, the water and the cat,
Glances at the mirror of the day.
And the pond shivers though the wind has stilled,
And the cat on the doorsill attacks the air
Like a mouse. The tree's blood begins to jell,
Day falls in stains on the brown grass.
The hundred year old oak door
Screeches like a newborn. Through yellow fog
The patient's eyes see: rainbows
Slump to earth like cackling parrots.
The clock counts out the time for the living,
A spider hangs his web among the stars,
And the angel, having entered the hearth,
Turns into smoke, ashes, embers.
Death's Angel by Henrikas Radauskas
If you run accross anything that you think I might be interested in,