The Dread Of Dead Birds

The Dread Of Dead Birds

The dread of dead birds
In the ambient of a stake-out
Is the song of blood

A slightly higher pitched thought
Like the distances
Lave themselves with silence

Sail away eyes down Attila's ill-whirlpools
Dig out the birds
Which are self-sufficient
That the most beautiful voices
From dead lines in the ground

We need them
At the beginning and the end of love
We always summon them then

Author: Leila Samarrai

I am a person of Himalayan seclusion, I am Atalanta in vestments of Helen of Troy, for me there is no term (aphorism there is, maybe). Cosmopolitan is too modest word for one who wanders across epochs without the help of the time machine. Some people consider me weird, because usually this is so when they do not understand something or someone that do not represent their existence. I love cats, an animals in general, I like challenges, I am persistent, I am combative (sometimes I can exaggerate in that - in all) If I were stylistic figure my mortal name would be Hyperbole. Read me. Know me. Conquer me :)

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