The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

March 18, 2007

Dark sky.

Dark sky. You take my friends from me. They return, mother, in dreams.
Dark sky.

She is dead and the argument has disappeared, in the still air there.
Nothing is left of the argument. She cannot reply.

The offering no longer stands. The offering disappears as ghost disap-
pears. Ghost is the creature that topples to its feet.

More and more I remain on mountaintop or valleybottom. There is naught
in freedom or captivity. I am alone in company. I cannot reach out.

Within the series of disappearances I disappear. The series continues
in the other's guise. The series is no longer mine. The series is yours.
a brilliant work i am alive.

Generated by Mnemosyne 0.12.