Chapter 49 Chronicles of the Rain

Chronicles of the Rain Wake up, the windows facing the street preserved glass that whole and quiet pain gradually transparent in the rain In the morning, read my wrinkles book open on the table rustling, as if sound of fire fan-like wings Splendidly unfolding, over the abyss fire and bird here in my Between the sunset glow that presents doom is a river full of stones The figure is commotion dive into deep water the rising foam threatening starless daytime man who paints fruit on the ground doomed to starvation people living among friends doomed to be alone The roots are exposed beyond life and death

rainwashed It's dirt, it's grass is the voice of mourning