the wind is howling around the chimneypots, which are funneling its husky roar into my room & the sound is stirring the air & mingling with the ticking rain on the windowpane, the ticking clock, & the red-wine light. I am daydreaming & my dreams are, as usual, either big or expensive.
the morning hangs limply, like the proverbial carrot on a tick, ready to be grabbed by one who will stretch. tell me secrets that i already know, whisper them into the intricate folds of my earlobe, love - i will keep them safe.
the morning hangs limply, like the proverbial carrot on a tick, ready to be grabbed by one who will stretch. tell me secrets that i already know, whisper them into the intricate folds of my earlobe, love - i will keep them safe.
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