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After the rain of cometary fragments
had fallen, streaking sky with white blisters
of light so cold it seemed the sky had turned
to broken ice,...

In this early half of autumn,
with the days falling inwards
into themselves towards the cold
fogs of winter, dreaming
and both barren and cold here,
you turn, at the end, and whisper lines.

The illimitable blackness of an alien sea greets my inner vision, a void unseen by any other eyes.

Michael blinked, and the shadows receded to the spaces between the stacks, and along the exposed spines of the books. It was cold tonight, perhaps the heating had broken….

How your heart is as adamant! Nothing shall mar it, nothing shall mark it.

In Mouseburg,
where the timid live,
the houses are tiny
as are the hearts
of those that live within.