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from Bone Tales


The dark had gone from the night


it was a sky bright as hailstones

grinding together. The food he ate

was grey, water black, his shadow

stood away from him at every angle.


He ate and ate to find something with colour

like taste had.

                         Then vomited darkness.


He ran and ran away from that place –

the empty sky inside him -

the thoughts that lit up just darkness –

he ran and ran from them.


<Deleted User>

Tue 29th Jan 2008 21:16

Interestingly spot-on there, Zuzanna.

I had not realised it myself: I have been reading a lot of modern Icelandic and Swedish poets - and I guess the scary Arctic cold has left its mark.
How astute you are!

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clarissa mckone

Sat 26th Jan 2008 17:03

Hi ricardo, this is nice.

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Zuzanna Musial

Sat 26th Jan 2008 01:30

It reminds of those long days on the Polar Circle where there in no darkness just day light there is a lot of imagination as well. The picture I draw from your write it is scary. Loved the mystery, the unknown…Great read!

Thank you...Zuzanna

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