The fires in her bones weep

Places exist just when we need them. From a land with lace shaped rhinoceros clouds breeze underneath pungent icicles grown from warm earth. Verses of comfort attack stabbing generous intelligence. Au revoir eucalyptus sweat. The fires in her bones weep. She's just there. Watching her breathing, a kind of freedom dancing with the opposite. Not from without, she exalts into the abyss not remembering the power of forgetting. -- 11 April 2011 29 January 2010