2004-01-11 - 6:30 p.m.
An extinguished fire, a stasis somehow still containing violence, a mocking image of sky frozen in meaninglessness, an impression, a taste almost, reminiscent of the interior of the most ordinary stone. An owl which does not fly or call. A message unheard, a meaning somehow stilled in air which is suddenly like ice. I struggle against struggling. My angry fire is condensed to a single point in my chest and I tell it to remain there. Time to burn will be later. Now is time to question the spark itself, to deny it three times. To find it worthy or unworthy with eyes that carry a film of silence. To prune away wishes.
love has consumed me, consumed me, in fact, years ago, and I am a man of ash. I melt away at the slightest wind.
