Postcard Six : eighth-wit
the rock.
and
the roll.
ithankyou.
[yes, i know, it’s sort of more of a bun than a roll. and that’s more of a slab than a rock. but, look, a cliche in a photograph!]
the rock.
and
the roll.
ithankyou.
[yes, i know, it’s sort of more of a bun than a roll. and that’s more of a slab than a rock. but, look, a cliche in a photograph!]
[ ] [ ] [ ], [ ]
these four words
just as they are
just as they were
i keep them in
a pocket within a warm coat
in the fine mist left […]
never let slip the question mark between lips, but leave this fearful of the many and of any lies that might fly this way, distracted and distanced.
the whole world is not in turmoil. nothing like. nowhere near. just slightly sidewaysed. a step in the wrong direction.
who wants to sit in a park, in the pitch […]
did you hit the ground running?
no-one has very far to fall from this height, yet it seems like further than galaxies away.
[what i’d give to be on one of those clouds…]
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