Anthology of wounds - Arct

Anthology of Woundsdeer with their ears standing up. Still wool carried withendurance in their arms, the grief that left in the bunchsnow paths in that winter.I came around and saw among the carts coveringthe lists was the only picture. Was it a game light? It feltlike sluggish blood. To stand between the top of theshadow and the skinny path, was to move to the otherseason – it’s a law.Outside on the corner of the mountain some wildgoats waited to go to pasture. In their back the diverselight glimmered, only black and white. All the Marchin my eyes they remained frozen in my eyes.Daze on the duskI fondled the Dranja lines, even that I don’t knowwhat I did with my fingers, with my ideas before and,the letter mixed dark and unwashed ideas. One twothree, here the difficulties over the fingers…. After theruin on the dusk comes, daze.The lines, flute inside, prepared to be a nest, outsidestime after time keeps the shape of the cat’s head with acircle of golden in the neck, home animal tied that islinked to the fireplace not to people. The daze comesbefore the sorrow that goes in the rock.Lines so full reminds the headache, the snake insteadof hair and all blink snakes. Tomorrow we will be freeagain.253