Tag Archives: Junctions

London :









London was an idea, or an eye
a stone thrown that could sink no deeper
a jar without a lid, a sound out of the speaker

beyond the bridge of murky sea-crossed mosaics
a spine bent back with words half-read
Jimmy’s strings you could not follow, a metronome of something lead

You and I outside in an English garden
a taste you told everyone was only earl grey and cream
a peak fare to the next junction, the blue eggshells of something broken free

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