Other Blogsites
MRH
Yeoks
Airina
Iskandar
PostSecret
echoncyllan
Before Gargoyle
One Million Footnotes

Read My Poetry.

Playing:



Between the Bars (Elliott Smith Cover) by Metric



People you've been before that you
Don't want around anymore
That push and shove and won't bend to your will
I'll keep them still



Archives
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
March 2008
May 2008

Powered by

Sykopanther - 2001 All rights reserved

Monday, September 20, 2004

Yorick

his name was Yorick. his body was made of wood from the trunk of an old tree at the back of Richard's house. Richard planted him in the middle of a cornfield.
he looked somber and crippled, his body sturdy, his arms stretched out and his legless trousers tied to a long wooden pole; which was once his lover, Barry. often, he tried to hang his straw head in shame as the sky stared down on him. he felt humiliated by the checkered man-shirt he wore which flapped in the wind like an oppressing flag. he was neither man nor tree now.
he missed home.
that day, crows flocked in grand numbers like an abysmal black thunderhead from afar. they swooped in to the cornfield, cursing. cawing and cursing. a cacophony where Yorick the ex-Tree watched warily. the dived like death arrows and pecked Yorick. each a dozen pierce.
"Traitor!" they rasped, "Traitor!".

i saw him today. he was running on the road, alongside vehicles. he ran and ran and he wailed loudly. i heard him. but nobody else did. they were busy roaring.
Posted by NHJ 9/20/2004 09:06:00 am