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needles needling needlessly with little thread... or much of anything else...

(foolish dribbles to be written at uncertain times, on an irregular basis, from uncertain sections of the ever expending universe, and from whatever dimension I-We-Us-Them might find ourselves/ myself in …)

Thursday, February 24, 2005

LAST DROPS 


Thick velvety red
liquid glass on a tray
bottles emptied
backwards
nothing’s left for that time
the last minute
the one before midnight
before going to bed
before becoming a pumpkin
with lights on
and rats
metamorphosed into princely horsemen.
Posted by: François Pointeau / 21:31
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