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Ending
ghosts... in the stratosphere of Europes winter
Partial images....
Focus.
On the eve of her Birthday...
Arranged.
Numb Days.
Her every few minutes.... Numb Days.
"But I can still remember..."
Opened. Her Hand... and
Heart.
She Blinked.
"You... aren't real..."
She said with feeling....but Nowhere Felt.
The past...all that remained...
Nurtured.... a rare thing...
and preserved....
The Very Fabric Of Things.
Unopened.... and Untouched.
In the eve of her house....
The Ghost Woke... to touch....
The faded hand,
"You aren't real"... she said sternly.
He shrugged.
Fellow passengers.... might think you a bit odd.
She closed her eyes.... and the
Ghost began to whisper to her....
She listened.
And the World began to define itself.
-------> The begining of An End. < -----------
Part I. Many times... In dreams.
"My name you see..." he said... as though this might immediately reassure her...
"is"
shaved back to Grey stuble.....
Black knit... frayed... and fingerless....
Nothing like the Past.
Accelerated.... unmanned vehicle.....
Somehow....
She Was Standing Still.
Her gorgeously detailed Gallery of
Nervous Care
A
Rare Thing
Preserved... as if a single Growth
This old expression followed him....
little figures....neatly defined....
Have you Eaten? Did They FEED you?
If I Decline your tethers of
supposed responsability... in some protest
It's Then... I set sail.... for a shore
That might have me.....
