Monday, 8 October 2007

Monday 0800

The machinery of grace is always simple

Snow on the roof

The effortless gadgetry of love

Even before I've left I long for this place

Only by moving do we balance

"Missing you already"

I walk with ladies who throw stones

He was walking where he knew it was safe

So much agility. desire and feverish care

Blown downward to the dark

Where the old man was run down

daisies, cowpats

The frost is touching everything before the sun

Like old photographs

by dusk, a clearing

Each shadow sticks

Like a freshly cleaned bathroom,

The whine of distant bandsaws, the creak of dying trees

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