The sky was night-black but the people remembered.
The sky is night-black but the warm dawn is arriving;
Keep the door open and the fire well-stoked.
She was the sort of person
She was the sort of person
behind whom a door never closed forever.
It was always on the latch, on the jar,
in case she would think to turn around
or a cry would call her back.
But now the door is closed forever
and locked and bolted by another hand
with we remaining hammering on the metal
and she silent beyond.
in the centre you
lines criss cross alive
the sound of quiet breathing
in the centre you
at the corner you
tension electric
air and fingers spark
at the corner you
impossible not to know
It was impossible not to know
but I didn’t.
Until eventually I did.
The last to know.
The electric light
the electric light was outside the window
and suddenly snapped off
I lay on my back
and from the corner of my eye
saw the sun rise
Afternoon evening
Afternoon evening
Thoughts jumping back and forward
Where were, shall we be?
I took a gander
I took a gander
and he goosed me.
Saucy!
He ducked, the chicken.
Falls
Nobody knew what was at the falls. They just knew there were bad things there and they must never go there and their parents would literally kill them if they went there. Or they would not, or could not, because nobody had ever returned from the falls alive.
So of course she and I decided to go there together, hand in hand,and we saw what was at the falls and we felt what was at the falls and we fell together and we will never be back but we tell each other this story over and over. Now you.
recycle the words
recycle the words
words recycle
reuse the words
the words
reduce
simonsalento 