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A patch-work roof burns underneath the sallow-white chill of a mid-winter moon. Nearby a lake suffocates in ice; an astronaut has lost his helmet. Blood rushes to the eyes and tongue as a ragged derelict loses his balance. He topples into a dumpster; the last pear drifts from the tree. The firemen are enclosed in smoke. One froze at the door, the others melt into the haze; a hand slips below quicksand. The moon is doing all it can. The spaceman is floating away. The *** is asleep. The roof is having the time of its life and the pear grows into another pear-tree.
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Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 2:36 AM UTC
Something Town
A patch-work roof burns underneath the sallow-white chill of a mid-winter moon. Nearby a lake suffocates in ice; an astronaut has lost his helmet. Blood rushes to the eyes and tongue as a ragged derelict loses his balance. He topples into a dumpster; the last pear drifts from the tree. The firemen are enclosed in smoke. One froze at the door, the others melt into the haze; a hand slips below quicksand. The moon is doing all it can. The spaceman is floating away. The *** is asleep. The roof is having the time of its life and the pear grows into another pear-tree.
christopher-howard-gorrie
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Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 2:36 AM UTC
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