thanks gerald.
J
> Jill: Thankyou. A succession of
> infinite strokes, reality's thread!
>
> cheers,
> gerald s.
>
> > the pen so cold
> > snow is edging the city
> > and wind test the monuments
> > their verdigris work of the soul
> >
> > there will always be dancing
> > at the bar americain
> > though the tongue freezes
> > without speech
> > and all along the boulevard
> > people press their lives
> > into the sounds in their heads
> >
> > there's something tender in stone
> > the cold frees it
> > the living stand with flowers
> > and feel the coming sleet
> >
> > water is more than rain
> > there's no sleep beyond the night
> > and now is always interruption
> > sweeping away the leaves
> >
> > I cover my head
> > where the cold falls
> >
> > Jill Jones
> > 26 January, snapped 25 Jan Cimetiere Montparnasse
>
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