augury doggerel

Saturday, March 02, 2002


The stuff of mummies reviscerate in glass plates and smoking celluloid. While I watched this morning, the sun just over the earth hit a reflective window here in this building and focused a single beam on the shaded railway embankment. And from a last patch of snow in the beam, something moved, a small dark head up through the white.

Or I am seeing things. Which also would be good.


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