Angels were splashing
about their milky feathers of steel above the black chiromancy of the park
gates.
Now, however, there was no doubt about the mysterious woman sitting alone in
the garden...
She was unravelling the fog of a flying machine lost at sea...
TBE
and in the polyhedric
coal of a golden moth's eye, the park suddenly appeared in both front and
top view.
A slow and dim sun was fading, flexible and shining like a diving otter.
TBE
Dead leaves accumulated
like brown snow flakes on the screen mist
until they covered its skeleton, entangled hip and shoulder bones sinking in
quicksands and ashes,
TBE
Light-covered bags filled with fogs and feathers silently exploded in the air
above the ruined ship of dreams,
and the moon rose
like a sweet drum of bronze.
The streets and the deployed hairs, the echoes and loopholes, the smiles and the scaffolds had been given their names.