Dreams
My brother is always
dying. My mother
walks with me
through endless halls
in enormous houses.My mouth is full of broken
glass. Someone has killed
the bird in the book. My teeth
fall out in splinters, in shards.
Feathers fly up from the page.My brother is still
dying. My grand-
mother's house is empty,
and I don't know how
to get home.


ChangingLINKS
So sad...like a little boy lost.
Posted by: Giovanni Vidotto | December 11, 2006 at 10:06 PM