Saturday, 28 April 2007

Saturday's Prompts

Remember, brother soul, that day spent cleaving?

Above the tree-line and below the fog

The day we woke up face to face, like lovers

Donkeys, stumbling like refugees

Jamie made his landing in this world

The shonky side of town, less pretty

All afternoon we stood watch on the wharf

On Mondays red cars enter town

Dear sons, for I am not as you believed, your uncle

By chance, I have come to rest, in my attic

The first time I came to you wandering attention

Widows make love differently

Welcome Children! First to those rare birds

A young man wrote a poem about a bucket

I am, demonstrably, I guess, in Heaven

Good of them, all told, to leave me locked inside

The deftest leave no trace: type, send, delete

The room above the bar was the cheapest we could find

He said he'd hurt himself on a wall, or had fallen

It's not the lover that we love, but love itself

What lovers we were, what lovers, even when it was over

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