{ 03.02 } .. . mandarin

which escape to mount

She blinks. And looks away.

The winter sets with the madness of abandonment. How could I have left you, that question spreads across my mind like hoarfrost over glass. Prettily prismatic, she still moves me in her movement though she’s not in sight. The echo and sway of her transom hips pendulum my attention to and fro. Despite every fair from fair sometime declines, she still shines brightly in her ways. Each time I kissed her, I tasted the sweetness of her summer radiance, yet I had not known her in her youthful days.

Now, in the doldrums of this deadened season, the tartness of my recollections sharpens my sense of loss. And all I can look forward to is another change, from vernal to venal, whilst waiting for my darling buds of May.



spiral scratch
my wife and my dead wife .. . { robyn hithchcock and the egyptians, gotta let this hen out! }
hey! get out of my way .. . { the cardigans, life }
screaming hand .. . { jay reatard, matador singles ’08 }