Saturday 9 April 2011

The ageless Facsist

The dictator has time today to watch the birdies fly away. He enjoys the views up in the hills the dots of people far away. The dictator has no time today to merge into a scene he has not controlled. He cannot synchronize the birds or melt the high snow he has no thought of those below. This dictator knows even his power cannot make beauty more fair

Thursday 7 April 2011

Jac and Shea I am searching for a story. I left it somewhere under a granite paperweight. I wonder was it then when I forgot to dance, to close my eye, to watch the unemployed Jacobites spread technicolour. As if I would forget, as if I would leave you in the past when no matter how often I stand beneath a rainstorm I could never wash you away. Still imprinted with the original as a fingerprint seeks rare form, but floats off like a feather, lands later, too late for a lover and for dancing under the moon.