ostia (coiled)

Snow.

I watch the snow. I have never seen it snow. There are bones underground and monuments atop them. You can hear the bones humming in the afternoon beneath the austere sky. I don't know where the snow comes from. There are thousands of words for snow. I will never learn all, or even most, of them.

I have never seen it snow. I watch the snow. A warm body lies atop the bed. Boxes of photos lie beneath. You can hear the photos rustle during the night. The ceiling light does not work and the bulb in the lamp is almost burnt out. Snow is white. I will never learn all, or even most, of the colors.

An earth mover made of bones digs a hole and the four horsemen of the apocalypse ride out.

I will not have to worry about riding the carousel at the carnival as neither of these things exist. I use the bones to dig. They hum and are not brittle. They like to be put to use.

The first act of death is getting in an automobile.

Austin Spare hides under a pile of corpses. He can hear the bones humming.

The snow looks like cherry blossoms. I do not know if all snow looks like this. Snow eradicates the world. I use the bones to scrape away roots. I kneel, and my body breaks. It does not belong to me. Nothing belongs to me. Not even the bones. My bones.

Together the bones and I hum.



--10/16/14 and 10/23/14