the tree and the dust

the very incredibly old man walked across the plate glass frozen face of the lake with perfect form~

while the world around him hummed and whispered with winters worry, the movements below his boots caught his eye, bubbling in tear

a frog just barley alive, a newt, a red stripped turtle a silver knife of a fish, a current, an eddy, a dusty snow globe turning end over end forever

snow blown pillows, mounds rippled, the unharnessed wind billowing his cape, in black with silver pipping a knife, a gun. silver and chrome, his white beard blown to caress his throat, his helmet held under arm pressed to his side, an auxiliary head, in black and silver, an embossed tree within an acorn, the visor reflecting a pure winter white, on white spoiled ~a spot of blood, a star

an old man's face torn to shreds by time and punctuated with deep purple pinpoint pox of astrology

the eyes watch the fish so slow in the thick waters below the ice, a frog pinned to the ceiling of clear. . .life. . .postponed

a crack, pings, echos,reverbs out in the thin air like artillery, the world lurches and almost stops, gravity releases him from it's grip and he leaps into the flash frozen air like a dark monstrous moth against the grey dusky sky, sprinkled with snowflakes the size of plates which slice at his body, uniform cape and helmet, his gloved hand pulls the helmet up to cover his head, as he lands on the shore, in the blackberry brambles, where he runs~as the lake behind him explodes up into the sky to extinguish the very stars,

he curses

and runs through the thicket, as the ice in clear blocks of lead crash into the ground, expanding craters of snow and bright red stalk, and crystallized black soil, hail, snow, shrapnel rips at his back and the girl he drags behind him-

screams !

little mee mee told me that she would only read my blog if it was about vampires, so, here you go baby, a brand new serial, BLOGNOV, only it's going to be a s-f vampire novel set in the way distant future with robots and Nazis of course, now lets see if she reads this crappola, one chapter a week, i guess, i was going to make this a cellphone novel, but those are just too trendy right now, and i don't have a keypad type celly, and Mee-mee doesnt' have a phone anyway, now we can all start writing blog novels, BLOGNOV, love that word, blognov, say it.

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