31/10/2006 7:20:06 PM

Now

Immnediate is the cackle,

caking off sureness in an upturned knee,

the fire blows downward,

fading off into the brown mass of

sleep and dew.

Sleep and dew.

The brightness is cliff face anew,

digging a wretched soul in pine,

forests coming! They are near -

anew in deer part called whine.

Wrapped in a blanket of dewness,

almost like a raindrop blister,

is the name of the hare in wretch,

dotted blobs curse in vines,

scrapped a new likeness to

the soar of the milky blueness,

split against cold stone.