Death is a door knob made of flesh
Death is that angelic farm girl gored by the bull
on her way home,crossing the pasture
for a shortcut
In the seventh grade she
couldn't read or write
she wasn't a virgin
she was 'simple minded' we all said
It was May - a time of lilacs and shooting stars
She's lived in my memory for sixty years
___Jim Harrison.
4 comments:
death, reminds me of the trial - Kafka. The gore... aah worsht pain.
and in the story, the worst part is all this happens on his b'day. :O shit... dude... weird. ;)
love you all the same though..:)
watever man ...
besides.. i didnt give anything away... u'll see it for urself if u ever read the book... cheer up.
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