soiled sidewalks/spitting rain
the mini is slammed: full; overwhelmed
the road ends, the road begins:
Chieveley, Badbury Wick, Wantage
sunlight spills onto the empty road
the lamb; the go; the clouds retreat
i wonder what the point of it all is.
familial warmth; the gift of an apple
it's rubbish/it's indecipherable/it's familiar/it's not
distance dissapears and i'm home again:
green, brown, green. black, green, brown.
i could be in wamsutter, i could be alone
no phone -- just an empty box on a forlorn corner
it's the space between the real and the absurd.
jared.
No comments:
Post a Comment