Apples in a green bowl
suggest the amusement of living.

The failing light of afternoon
shares its bed with the pomegranates.

If you hear someone weeping in the next room, go to them
and tell them about Carthage.

It is the eyes that arrange festivals,
the mouth that rides on a silver staircase.

A book with pale green covers is a reminder that death
is a delicate matter

Spare the nightingale.

A sign on your door instructs you to go out in your pajamas
and look for an amber jar that is buried in the forest.

There are further instructions in the music room.

Go home now.

 

Stuart Dodds

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