Tuesday, 8 February 2011


The gentle melodic whirr of rotor
And the sporadic cicada click
Of electronic relay switches.

The tinnitus ring sounded
By a high-pitched infra-red clapper,
And the glare of lamp on picture glass
And street light on computer screen.

A lop-sided cushion;
Supported by lop-sided bums
That hold up bodies, that hang
In an ennui of apathy.

Lights flicker; trains pass,
Days die; the phone rings
Once or twice, letters fall into the house
Like little coffins falling
Into a crematorium furnace fire.

The patterns on the wall
Begin to blur and the ringing
Has taken over; numb but feeling
Every inch -
I go for a walk.

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