Bradley Strahan Falls Church, USA What's bred in the bone Red and hard, the borders of this book, this handhold on the sane. Blue and dark with spindrift clouds the evening crowds in riding earth's back. Witchclock, broomhandle to the moon, spavined nag counts no time. Blood, blue and red, a'pulse beneath the watchfires and crippled flesh. Between the texts of dream moonflowers and madness.

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All rights reserved and revert to the authors No part of the page and the work inside may be used, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transcribed in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author © 1996 by Steven Duplij

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