|Birds Scream in Attics (standard:poetry, 256 words)|
|Author: kendall thomas||Added: Aug 23 2007||Views/Reads: 1805/977||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
I walk down marble halls that echo nothing genuine Birds scream in attics Women blacken their eyelids with soot and dab their cheeks with blood fixing men with sharp knives Down empty corridors blood-drenched eunuchs find mirrored doors leading where houses of glass, frosted temples dedicated to doom interiors streaked with black stand abandoned in one of many forgotten infinities Nothing ends, all remains Each flyspeck a galaxy or a new dimension Unfathomable glass serpents twine around silver trees spinning gross tales of fruitless deeds Empty bottles of physic drunk in splendor Wailing through the telescope I hear birds in attics screaming Touchstones, moonstones, tombstones Dead soldiers rising marching backward from war then Charlie Chaplin fast forward through time No beginning, no middle, no end Time concaved, convexed The mirrored doors show us coming and going Houses of glass with frosted panes Mud puddles reflect dead men with insect-breeding faces Bullets flee from the barrel of angry lilies like tack-headed hornets nailing what to what end? A blue cobalt sky Baited traps of a pristine wood The hyacinth dares not one false step for its namesake Lies and deceit leading on Click here to read the rest of this story (31 more lines)
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