I cracked it into ghost
sleep in a corridor
a broken hour
I had to slap up morning
a lame johnny that I
am I just disappearing
into the sweet grey
rain and rain and
anything the heart
touches rib roar
jostling a wing
dream on inbetween
catching up with
the joke in the day
results leaders questions
what I cannot get
a grip or it stops
beating an old drum
dancing dissonance
its art as fatalist
Jill Jones 12.37pm 3 December 2003
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