January 5, 2015 § Leave a comment

The bottom fallen out after some shaking of the thing and turning, upside down,
Contents fallen away, into the aching air of this year early.
We are lined up within stations and for buses, with the sirens going
but they are always going.

Michael told me about a loss of beauty in London,
one’s perception of it, altering.
I saw it too.

After some time and a grim and small acceptance of the thing,
I met a man who made exquisite drawings.

With the shock of it,
there shot out an intricate and desperate web of capillary veins, blue,
from my eyes,
a new sight of colour,
of light


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