Dearest Reader
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by Michael Palmer He painted the mountain over and over again from his place in the cave， agape at the light， its absence， the mantled skull with blue-tinted hollows， wren- like bird plucking berries from the fire her hair alight and so on lemon grass in cafe in clear glass. Dearest reader there were trees formed of wire， broad entryways beneath balconies beneath spires youthful head come to rest in meadow beside bend in gravel road， still body of milky liquid her hair alight and so on successive halls， flowered carpets and doors or the photograph of nothing but pigeons and grackles by the shadow of a fountain. |
