the northit is the honesty of touchingthe north
oh, that this northern sea might make my heart grow fonder and flounder in the dark sand plains of the forth of firth
that this north might deny the existence of south
somehow. that I might not be sure of the difference between
a mirror and
a window.
by Leuchars, I have understood Paterson’s distance to lov
the conversationalistslit-eye winter sun- rise buried to the hilt in common sense.the conversationalist
as if you
‘d answered my every fucking question speaking french-
quelle surprise indeed.
it’s October again, my darling for pity, oh. for pity’s sake, this talking in morse or semaphore is getting
older by the day.
these icy fingers are not persuaded by my plea of self defence, the jury’s out, the cock has crowed,
the books are falling from the shelves
like dodgy tape recordings of conversations overheard in dreams, &nbs
the neat conclusionWhen it comes, you will not know by cause or effect. Context, perhaps; the open windows, wider sky, the lying corvid’s cry, more people in their gardens, louder banging cupboard doors,the neat conclusion
the ticking of an engine where no engine was before.
after the partythe stutteringafter the party
departure of water from porcelain vases made them alive. they were frightened white animals under the sudden light of the morning sky.
and me, tipping so many wilted flowers in the dustbin, barefoot. oh,
how it can only be like this after the party.
Icarus FlightIcarus Flight The wings came together Wax to feathers – one by one, Like the strands of a promise The covenant of freedom, an escape In which the whole world shrankIcarus Flight
To surround us, but we were invisible Except to our own eyes, this would become A tsunami in an afternoon swimming pool, Momentous in the space of one sole moment.
And then the heavy liberty, Strapped to our shoulders, suspending The burden of fear for something altogether More exhilarating, thumping in our veins A poisoned pleasure that beat like My feet on the steps up the cliff, my
Play BallAm I the survivor of some shipwreck? From driftwood to raft continually, Or the batsman, seeking a home run? From home plate to base, keep running I am a slave to the clock, almost as if There’s a price on my head, ropes laid Thoughtfully, a hindrance just for me.Play Ball
Wait and see. Somehow, I have become The subject of a massive auction, where Façades are paraded, charades traded Daily, scandal sells like hot cakes. The long arm of the law will become The long foot of an unseen relative, the eyes Of the night are convivial grins in daylight, Painted on by f
--
To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else. -Emily Dickinson
what a pity
--
&iloveyou♥
~eternity-icons <-- my icon account
~eternity-stock <-- my stock account
Thank-you for giving me such a pleasurable read. I will leave some comments as soon as possible.
--
Persistence
--
Assume I'm an idiot, and we'll get along fine.
theredsunband
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