Weighted by too much grey stone on our side,
it seems to have rolled towards here, saturating.
One knows the rocks are intermixed, polychrome.
It might be painted thus, apparently one
until the eye is moved close, to peer;
though from this pier all’s one in appearance,
with regard to the nearest coast
but otherwise variegated various --
tilt it upright like a grandfather clock
and there, mid face, a tottering mess of stone
which might be fallen obelisks, houses
blown up by bombs or what geology’s left.
Worlds we see are momentary. Tomorrow is
a present tense remaining provisional past.
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UNFRAMED GRAPHICS by Lawrence Upton
42 pages; A5 paperback; colour cover
Writers Forum 978 1 84254 277 4
wfuk.org.uk/blog
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