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     .* O . .   ..   ..O  ..    386            30 Jun 2001             ) ( ')
   .*   O O* o o  o o  o o  o                                         (  / )
  *  ***O O  O O  O O  O O  O                                          \( _)|
 *      O o  o.*..o.*..o.*..o. .net     "Before Winter Came Hours"          *
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  *.    o   |\      _,,,---,,_                                              *
       *    /,`.-'`'    -.  ;-;;,_                                          *
      *    |,4-  ) )-,_..;\ (  `'-'           by Mike Shmike                *
      *   '---''(_/--'  `-'\_)                                      *mE0w*  o
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         'Anada is cat-friendly..o*`       

 at the evenings sunset i retired to folds fettered with petals 
 the trees bleeding with colored paddles and coins 
 reflecting pools inside the cupped hands of mud in the earth 
 reflecting love from the sunlight cutting through thrashing canopy 
 i retired to the pile of soft inside lucid drunk sighs 
 inside putrid puffed lies of love 
 my weary embrace left in the autumn to gather bulbs feathers opium 
 in the loaning cool 
 left in the aumtumn and mustve drowned 
 mustve gotten lost and drowned 
 in the washing autumn gown 
 left to collect reflections in the ugly rays of summer 
 and lost his march in autumn 
 his bones must have broken 
 in flowering gown autumn fired over the cascade winter frost 
 gotten lost in the sea of autumn leaves 
 in first the ocean of autumn leaves 
 in the false music of autumn crows 
 lured by the false music of crows into the thorn blown hatches 
 and bled all over the poison berries 
 lured by the cooled music crows 
 and drowned in the whirlwinding gears of autumn 
 washing away summer 
 washed away my embrace with departing footsteps mashed upon petldd mud road
        away into the impending winter
 to collect spades 
 and mustve fallen asleep beneath some intoxicating vine 
 mouth ajar and stained with natural wine 
 mustve fallen asleep somewhere between here and there 
 drowned with spilled gold jet hair 
 in the last ground autumn weaving wash gathering 
 
 before winter came hours 
 before dreams came death 
 told me at twillight i would succumb to the frail arms from the mud 
 i ran into the trees already drunk 
 ran gasping sanguine breath tasting copper on my lungs 
 
 ran into the drawing sun looking for laughter in the warm chalice of muddled 
        youth 
 ran into the cooling air for the winding arms departed 
 returning at dusk with broken snapped bones from running 
 and raggs on torn skin 
 crows skulking music into my ears full of ice 
 i fell to my doorstep 
 spilling rotten flowers from my open scalp 
 watching the last feathers fall over the open window 
 grasping the chirping clock that bled like a peach 
 and sank into grey dreams 
 sank into overlapping seams 
 grey drifts and skins filching autumn crows 
 singing me south away from dreams. 

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 ( o.o )  (c) Anada e'zine                        anada301  by Mike Shmike  o
  > ^ <                                                                     o
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