When the crash came I had been sleeping the sound nourishing some ear of night & out of the nostoc dark of my dream I went knowing only a friend's cry of "Help! Someone's dying in the street," and it happened so fast. Of a slow decent and spiraling fuscus sea above the trees Of a sudden falling down with a blossoming of fire. & quickly, the Winter's witness gathers cold before the dawn's lenity; before the pilot in his tomb a precinct of scorched ruin. Tombs are such small places we can barely see only ash and some ineffable scent a Life gone out alone. & I sleep tonight in the stream that flows through small places past the noyade the silent nativity smoke in the vaporous space ash a Life gone out alone.
Reason for writing:
a solo pilot crashed his small plane
on the street in front of my house
I had eerie feelings about it...
there was nothing anybody could do
I wonder who he was?
Birth sign: Capricorn
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