malenky devotchka

Bella Morte
2004-08-19 04:51:50 (UTC)

gated

i have this picture in my mind, of this town. a town with
many gates. not fences, gates they are not meant to
lock anyone out, or any body in or anybody at all. they are
simply there, to pass under, through, around. lovely gates
with no locks at all. springloaded gates that will clang and
clatter and squeak. rusty gates with intricate lacing of
metal bent and curved and shaped and strung like the most
delicate weaving. that's all and nothing more. there are
gardens too, in this strange vision. gardens with tall trees
and wide branches, low limbs and spanish moss like witch's
hair strewn about in a forbidding kind of gentle menace; if
it is at all possible for menacing to be gentle. i suppose
it would come off quite seductive, yes a sausy minx really.
there are tombstones in these gardens, large, elaborate,
decaying tombstones. i suppose it is a cemetary i dream of.
how queer.




Ad: