Just playing with some ideas here, very much a casual draft.
Best
Dave
It was a small place and broken. I told
my soul 'Be there, exist' and a shadow
huffed up and left with an attaché case
clutched to its tantrum. Me looked about me
running his fingers through textures of water.
(That ran like your sex, remembered)
'I am here, I am here' my voice claimed, doubting
as my lungs spat air, the gist and spur
of my own case, its breath of evidence.
David Bircumshaw
Leicester, England
Home Page
A Chide's Alphabet
Painting Without Numbers
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