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Showing posts from August, 2015
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        Don’t Go When I’m with you I feel I am whole. Captured and completed. Engulfed by you. When you kiss me all my fears disappear in the kiss. Where do they go? I don’t know. Do you wrap them round your tongue and swallow them whole? I don’t know. I only know the comfort I feel, such peace. So don’t go. Don’t go. Please, don’t go. http://writingknightspress.blogspot.co.uk/2014/11/the-squire-page-day-poetry-anthology.html
In The End In the end  I’ll be like you. Dust with flakes of skin and bone wrapped in long hair. Teeth chattering With no voice. No sense of taste or smell. No reason. In the end we'll be invisible, impenetrable, anonymous, figments. But then, we always were you and I, we always were. http://www.typoetic.us/latest-issue.html
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Perfectly Imperfect It started when we stood hopefully,  with our thumbs outstretched by an English roadside. We were heading towards Italy and Yugoslavia without maps or money,  or sense of direction. And we made it to Italy.  and swam off the rocks,  with a man we’d met in a cafe, because he said we could. And we swam and swam until two policemen came,  (one very stern and one very twinkly), and said we couldn’t. Nor could we leave the rocks without clothes on, or with clothes clinging to our still wet bodies,  or lie on the rocks until we were dry, in case we disconcerted the traffic or populace.  This being the main street in Trieste. And we made it to Pec and lived  in a house ‘typique du Turque’  with a water pump in the garden and a toilet, also ‘Typique du Turque’,  which made us very ill indeed. But the parties were good and  the conversations interesting, Even though no one spoke English. And we learned to speak
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On the Edge I’m standing on the edge, on the rim  of the perimeter, on the outside, looking.... I’m not sure where I’m looking, outwards over the horizon or inwards to the inner depth, the inside of something. The inner void or the outer space. Face or about face. But there’s no confusion. Both faces are the same, I think... Can somewhere be full of emptiness? First Published in Calliope, June 2015 https://www.google.co.uk/search?q=calliope+magazine+june+2015&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjL3YCVpofMAhVBfxoKHWbxCwYQsAQIKw&biw=1659&bih=828#imgrc=WUWyGcLCrMeEWM%3A