i am
streetside
strolling under the skys boots
i see a hedge
i think thats green
see cement
think that used to be a hedge
and who are these people
out
in the naked day ?
i think shouldnt they be working
and the streets my vacant river ?
theres old men in beige sepia
like dressed for the dirt of the grave
i am in shades of prison greys
a smudge of newsprint / a social comment
vague
and
changeable
about
it
all
theres an alley
i think wheres my alley ?
i got block paving
the rain runs from
and a lush triangle of yard
and the sky is like its a hole now
fallen open above me
unsafe like a danehole
and
i worry now
that
i might grow wings
the ground is locked
all entrances disguised
with
root vegetable distractions
the daft unbearable light of flowers
and
immovable solid moods
from yellowad.co.uk
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